Drawn by a sad melody

I enter this old theater

I walk through corridors

But for the music all is still

I reckon I'm late for the show

Strange to say there is no crowd

But enchanted by the sound

I start to walk down one of two aisles



But as I reach the stage

I find the orchestra motionless

Like frozen in their play

All covered up in cobwebs

Indicating the time that passed



All in their evening attire

Beautiful

Like an old monochrome photograph



Bows lie still on violins' strings

From their instruments

It's but an echo between these walls

And has so been for years

Yet ever so strong



Their eyes focus in the direction

Where the conductor once was stood

He'd rule them from the podium

And they'd anxiously obey

Any gesture he would make



No one could in their wildest dreams

Imagine that he while he'd conduct

Would cast a spell and turn them into

Stone, statuesque, proud but sad

The conductor departed but left this dirge

I panic as I realize

The podium was nobody else's place

But mine



Paralyzed by insight

I'm viewing my own life

All my hopes and dreams

All that could have been

Turned to stone

As I stepped down from my throne