Percussion, woodwind, brass, and string
 Recline in stiff repose;
Each voice silent to itself
 With nothing to disclose.

Wooden, shiny, silver, gold,
 And keys in black and white,
Each one unique unto itself
 And different in our sight.

But when the music starts to play,
 Each purpose is revealed
As voices join in one desire
 With beauty once concealed.

It takes all colors, types and shapes
 To play a symphony,
So find the purpose in yourself
 And be all you can be.