A musician lives in solitude.
His only friends- the notes on the page and the sound of the symphony.
His best friend is his instrument.
Which he treats with the utmost care.
The band room is his first home,
The only natural habitat.
Music is his escape,
He falls into the notes on the page,
Letting their simplicity and complexity, swallow him.
He becomes a different person when he plays.
Silent, yet making even the most serious person, cry.
He needs not to use words, his music is enough.
When he sits with an ensemble, they do not know him,
Yet you can see him, feeling each persons aura, and melding together with them,
All to create music.
Music is the only thing more powerful than words,
A musician knows this.
This is why he remains silent.
No words are needed.
He knows that each and every soul will, no matter be impacted.
Every adult and child- will be affected when he picks his horn up.
A musician lives in solitude.
His only friend is music.