20181031 [Tribute to a brother beyond blood]
The gauge of life often starts with song; parted by measures.
Every sheet to begin with a treble clef, however,
The instrument of choice, a reflection of its composer.
Now the tempo of life is unique to each user.
We often despair in defeat when a pluck is behind beat,
Or a tone towed by apprehension,
But the flow – always forward.
Sometimes we must repeat measures for effort and
Agonize through the same crescendos and decrescendos,
Teasing the climax only to suffer myopic tendencies.
Ceaseless triplets, 8-counts, 4-counts, eighth notes, and half steps,
All to condition and steel against what comes next.
All of those notes plucked, all of those measures rested,
And you have finally played through the repeat.
All that is left is to flip the page, only to discover a blank music sheet –
Free to fill because, never forget, YOU are its composer.
Life’s music will never be muted despite the blunt staccatos.
Your fingers may bleed and your hands will callous,
But courage isn’t the absence of fear, but rather in spite of it.
As long as you continue to play the next fret,
The end will never have to come.
May this instrument help serve you to shred through
Any darkness or doubt because like any composer;
He is NEVER without his orchestra.