The Magic Flute

The flute’s so tender, its tunes so diverse,
With  silver strains of a mute warm rain,
Echoing  whispers of the universe,
Moaning with passion and weeping with pain.

And the players, musicians, the men that blow?
There’s no one here, just the flute at dawn,
And a gentle breeze, and a breathing soul
Of a magical instrument designed by the Faun.


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