You take on many forms

You are a concertmaster

The violinist leading the orchestra

The demanding note that catches everyone's

Attention

The first grand chord in the symphony

You are a conductor

The baton swings with a grace

It reaches its height and shakes with the force of it

And it falls with a deafening crash

You are a songwriter

With so many melodies running through your head

So many distortions that you are bound to forget

So you grasp as many as you can and let the rest

Slip through your fingers are you shove them onto a 

Blank canvas

You are silence

There is no melody floating in your wake

No symphony echoing in your skull

You are alone with a baton that is snapped in half

And a violin with a broken string