You find yourself
In a
Quiet place

No sound
No people
Just you

And you think
To yourself
Listening to your own
Silent symphony

It’s your mind
Playing on your
Heart strings and
Strumming up your veins

Nerve ends
Are maestros,
Making music
Out of muscles

Rhythm
Runs in your
Lungs
Racing air;

Eyes are
Synchronized,
Bones are
Steady

In your space
You find
Your body
Whole

You are an
Orchestra
Though you can
Decide

Whether you are
Beethoven
Or
Beginner.

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