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The sweet touch of freedom on my shoulder

The muse of the forest singing from her emerald canopy

The jackhammer in the distance adds rhythm to her song

And the birds and bugs dance about in the most natural of ballets

 

In accordance with the winds the clouds set the lighting for this miraculous spectacle

As all who fall under the glare and glow find themselves a part of this never ending ballet

 

Muses fix themselves atop Chrysler building and stony temples as scenes change

Music blares in open air, a symphonic ironic score composed of car horns, white noise babble, construction, public transportation and a whole mess of motley minstrels

She sings in the coffee houses, in the cars that sail the pavement, in the business halls behind business walls, on the subway cars and street-side markets, she sings down on Wall Street, she sings on Main Street, She sings of huddled masses, she sings of engines and guns, she sings of murder and salvation

Singing of the trees, singing of the pavement, singing of the pollution, singing of the population, singing through the confusion, singing through the illusion

She sings of tragedy, she sings of comedy, she sings of reality

The muse sets her song of life a-blazing and paints her picture with us as her brush

 

All who wake to hear the muse’s voice become audience to the apparition

And as all the great playwrights know, the audience is very much a part of the show

What deity could have commissioned such a divine eulogy?

Surely they got more than they bargained for

as even Shakespeare would drop his quill at a loss for words

 

The eulogy is so beautiful it may be counter productive

Who would ever want to leave such an extravagant funeral?

But leave we must, as all must deal with the daily dilemma, gods and men alike

Great God watching from his big bang and playing the conductor

March, towards death ye fairest of brutes, that you might amuse the muses and give them material for their masterpiece

 

And if you count yourself lucky, or inspired feel free to take time out of your magnificently melancholy day to witness the tragedy of (insert friend's name here) or the comedy of (insert senator's name here)

Feel free to add your own music and movements as the spirit of the times calls for, as it may call on you at any moment for your solo should you be playing your part faithfully in the audience