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If Music Were, But Mere Dreams
If music were but, mere dreams
What a bitter sorrowful waste this would be
Thus shadows, and to play a note
A meager reminder of a world without hope
Nexus of the heart blacker than grayer
Taste, loveless sapor than savor
Flowers wilt and will not, then they wither die
Laughter ends forthwith when only moments survive
Unmoving, undefining, joyous tears unwept, and never drying
Nor celebrations of song and dance relive or reviving
Simple songbirds mimic miming melancholy silent
Winds untheraputic cease, trees untickled lie dormant
That’s why I'm grateful for musical spiritual gifts
Through melodies, how Christ inspires and uplifts
Yes, if music were but, mere dreams
Then all of us sleepwalkers, a soul nonexistent, zombies in another reality
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