Music Dies Too Poem by Achim Wollscheid

I hear the sound of Erhus and horse headed fiddles and
I wish I was music, I wish I was the melody that floated through the air,
So pleasant and beautiful, so free
Carried on waves, carried everywhere;
To the mountains, echoing in caves, quieted by the sea.
But even music has its sadness, when its rounds must end
When the notes no longer resound, but they crumble from your ears.
That is when I feel comfortable being a human.
But even I have death to face, it is the nature of life...
Everything that lives a life must at sometime die.
If we do not die we'll just continue to grow until our bodies are strained and useless.
Just like humans and animals and plants, music finds its way of growing old.
The more its played, the more it begans to lose what was there at first.
The once youthful song gets dull and drab
And its hopefulness and ableness increasingly slips away.
Nobody wants to listen to an elderly song.