the ghosts of great composers
have an aura that still stands
in other's breaths, they've conquered death
and play with nimble hands
the trails, they blazed, are dotted
and with staff, they drew the path
when others come with pipe and drum
they solve the aftermath
you want to be remembered ?
curves of beauty must be etched
they linger on and though you're gone
your legacy's been stretched
the journey once thought ended
in new footfalls will refresh
when one creates, they cheat the fates
that dine on mortal flesh
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