The Band

[Shem]

The Band

To write with sharpened pencils
 now grown dull.
Our minds, the points are broken
 or grown dull,
when once the sharpness
 of our thought,
gave way to the emotion.

Actions proved our love.
Feelings fell, as actions
took their place.
In reflection,
the trades are made
 without a trace,
from years of quiet music,
silent moments from our race.
We did not know.

In our age we wonder
why we did this,
or that.
Did we learn,
more than we needed?
Did we make a lot,
to enjoy a little?

Were we to do it over,
would we pay attention,
to ourselves?
Would the band need to play,
 every tune?
Would just one do?
Would a song be a song
 sung through?

Would we stop?,
to give the band a break,
let the words sink in,
let the melody within,
give the band a break.