Second Fiddle
We all seek to be the cream of the crop;
one, upon which all others focused;
wanting to be one; that no one can stop;
the hero that everyone noticed.
It’s said, we’re the Master’s hands and feet;
commisioned to do the Master’s will;
we’re where consciousness and destiny meet;
given the Master’s talents and skill.
That which we do; is not of our own;
we simply carry the Master’s sword;
faith instills God’s powers, on loan;
as servants; we earn no reward.
We are all just actors, pretending to be;
according to the script God’s written;
everyone wants to perform his soliloquy;
about how we’re loved and forgiven.
Everyone wishes they could play the lead;
but, no one wants to get their hands dirty;
the script requires he must suffer and bleed;
no one, but the Master, was worthy.
There was no orchestra to play the event;
when death, himself came to call;
the followers were not around, to lament;
on the death of the Lord of All.
God’s orchestra requires many members;
wealth and fame don’t mean spittle;
most in his orchestra; no one remembers;
someone must play second fiddle.
Monty 9/2/24. # 2,313