Make a symphony play forever
And who is the first to give?
Is it horns, conductor, oboes?
Are the beats the last to live?
But the playing is ever and ever forever, not ever devolving to never endeavor.
A slipped note not fatal to the whole composition
And possibly makes a sublime exhibition.
But trombone will tire, a good bet to me.
Passing horizon eventually.
The movement evolves insidiously
To when is the dirge and played in what key?
C major, D minor, E minor for thee?
G minor, F major, A major for we?
And thus the conundrum that technology
Cannot solve the problem of mortality.
For death is a problem of uncoordination.
Discordant decay then annihilation.
And life is not code; there’s more than one factor.
There’s building, destroying, there’s more than one actor.
Life is all cells playing in resonance.
Between order and chaos is music and dance.
And why do we live? We live to persist.
And why do we sing? To feel the warm bliss.
And why does he sing? To earn their first kiss.
And why do we cry? Because we so miss.
But why do we die? To kill the immortal.
The demon named Cancer, a Red Wedding choral.
The Ever-Malignant,
a zombie unknowing,
consuming your brains
and never stops growing.
They should have sought this paradox,
The ought that clever never thought:
Die or die of Cancer: please choose.
Don’t play a Necromancer: you’ll lose.
Don’t sip the Youngblood to join the Undying
of ancient vampires, young without trying,
But not quite alive, a Frankenstein monster,
A monkey paw wish is courting disaster.
Instead live the life you want to extend.
Tend to your home and tend to your friends.
And if you transgress then make your amends.
A story’s not good if it never ends.
And neither are you, you’ve always been fleeting.
Your self is constructed to make sense and meaning
Of sounds in your ears and sights that you’re seeing.
You’re different from seconds ago and it’s freeing
To will your attention to what you’re believing.
So listen to me and not your deceiving:
The orchestra’s playing and thus you’re alive.
At symphony’s end is time when you die.
Right now it’s a movement, a song of devotion.
Imagine, then action, then crossing the oceans.
Not chasing unchanging, becoming a stone.
A statue of you, forever alone.
Glorify humans and scorn away elves.
Play in this life, for that’s where we dwell.
And remember the song of the chorus upon us:
“Remember Ty-thonus! Forever Ty-thonus!”