Page 33 - NS 2024
P. 33
Passion
Thrumming from within,
Vibrating inside out,
Dressed in black, draped over white paper Pushed down low or
Brought up high, depending on the moment, The tempo, the beat.
I come and
go
without warning.
But sadly, I am always being used
By the humans, composers, the muse is shared, yet they take the credit; I am never given the recognition I deserve.
My spotlight always shines on someone else.
They take the credit I deserve because without me,
they wouldn’t exist.
I may be a tool, but I am the best one.
