The music has survived the apocalypse
For this, we rejoice
In all the ways we know how.
The beat lives on, an
affirmation of our survival
and a praise to humanity.
The voice shatters silence with a perfect tone
survivors claw themselves out
from under rubble.
All stops, silence reigns, under a moving shadow
A roar like trumpeting thunder
Sends them scurrying.
It lands with the crunching
of pavement
and spreads scaled wings.
When they finally dare to look:
A harmless man in black clothes
Leather trench flapping in the wind.
He asks them to sing
Pleads
And they see he’s crying.