August 26, 2022
If I could write a symphony
With words and verse not notes or scores,
Could I find words unique to me,
Or just repeat what’s come before?
Old instruments still live today.
Their beautiful rich mellow sounds
Are at their best when masters play.
In masters’ hands their soul is found.
If instruments improve with age,
Yet always need a master’s touch.
Can those who write upon the page
Without their Master mellow much?
I pray I age, grow old with grace,
Until I see my Master’s face.