a fan poem from Lee and Miller's Liaden Universe
There's no constant beat to the song
woven by the clans of men.
Not unless you listen close;
It's chaos layered over chaos
but among the random notes
you can see a thread walked
by a man or a woman.
Their dance is part of the music:
dance of death, dance of love.
Their talk is part of the music:
truths and lies, boasts and rages,
and what else is music?
Even the planets ring
like distant cymbals
in men's hands--
bodies in motion, forces
of gravity, forces of honor,
faith and hate.
Some men are better composers
than others. Would that the universe
sing forever to the master's tune.
Note: Edger is a Clutch turtle, a long-lived species; he in particular loves music.