Image Me a Poem 4

Music soothes, they say, but have they played for the beasts and won? Music's way is gay, but pray, set aside your notes for a day. There isn't time to play, the clouds are rolling home. The sun is deaf; you will not win or slow its burning fate. Don't leave me lonely, the strings of my heart untouched, the notes of my body unsounding. There is a silent song, the ear will never hear. Come, let me sing it to you, and leave your lyre here.