A master stroke..

He walked in and stood among the elders,
each playing his tune,some wrote
rich and vibrant..some,dark and rough notes,
and he stood facing the worldly wise..
and when he was asked to play..he invoked paradise.

Such notes they had never known,
the cheek and arrogance of youth!
As he continued his exuberant tone,
they came from distance to bask
in glory of a boy shaming the men to mask,
their uncontainable awe,
facing the waves of raw,
unflinching goodness against the shore.

He became their own,
he played and they swayed..
he struck notes and they obeyed..
his flute and could not dispute
that a Daniel had come out to refute...
the old man sitting in his High Chair.

When the Old master heard,
of the talented upstart,
he came in his will,
to break the quill,
of the fledgeling samson,coming to break,
traditions of music for the commoner's sake!

And he was astound,to hear the naive noise,
Oracle's words from the uncouth voice,
and his mind set in motion,
with cruel murderous emotion,
the process of elimination,
of Life inside this abomination.

He took him under his wings and taught,
each lesson was undeniably bought,
by the pupil who became,
domicile,subservient and tame.

The next night when people swayed again,
they did so before he played again,
for when he struck notes,
he arrested breath in the throats,
of the audience that once bowed,
now became once again..the passing crowd.

His delivery was unparalled,
his notes were tuned to perfection,
but his music no longer called out to them..
it became a pedestrian deception,
of a man who walked and played in the great Shephard's hall,
and now became the flock after his fall.

When night came,miles away the Old master,
pulled out his flute and played,
the tunes of the forgotten man,
here sat the Master of the clan,
and sweet music filled the wind,
and he smiled,like a child,
who hath stolen without inhibition,
and the child was above suspicion