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Robert L. Martin

The Discipline

Congenial commanders above me,
weavers of a lonely fragile sound
of a thousand and nine violins
filling the air with love and melody,
ordering me to blend in with them,
to listen to the music breathing
with the ears of my heart,
to honor it with my whole being,
to let it inspire me to ride with it,
to offer my musical prowess,
to submit myself to its power,
to go to exotic places with it,
to breathe with a new breath,
a new power that took over me,
the new me that I never knew
a genius giving himself to the music,
that stayed with it thru and thru,
that offered his humble self
and exalted spirit to it,
that saw the universe
filled with arrows and flowers,
planets churning and breathing,
angels speaking in tomes
that spoke to my heart,
 
riding with that wave
that broke out into colors and love,
purple carriages that
traveled upon lines of velvet,
spirited horsemen that
drove the coaches
through deep space
until the final chord,
 
me, the all powerful me in unison
with the all powerful them.

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