New Poem! Ode to a Metronome

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Ode to a Metronome
by Michael Rays
Relentless and unfeeling come the clicks
not caring if your wrist is sore today
interrogating as you play each lick:
‘Is timing of the essence when you play?’
And though your own hand sets the tempo’s pace
from that point on the little box is king
and should you err, revealing failure’s face
his drone, unchecked, inserts an added sting
For any soul can claim to keep a beat
or tap their foot while playing to impress
but wise ones know they must, to be elite,
bow down before this love/hate empress
and hear the truth: no piece is good to go

until the metronome declares it so

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