I Write Songs of Life and Death by Ryan Schiff

You are born with two songs:
The promenade:
The lifesong.

Your charm of life,
Your saga, sung,
Is an epic of life
Played out in a million movements
A Symphony played by one hand, alone.
You are an orchestra.
They who think not of themselves,
But of the song it plays.

How it sounds!
And resounds
In the echoes of time
And history.

The overture
At the great gate
In the mountain hall!

And at last:
Your antisong.
The antithesis of a song,
A song of deathknells
And of deaths
Sings soft,
But not for sorrow’s sake.