Greatness Poem by Anderson Archfield

What is the elixir which fuels our souls to leap from the peak of D to be caught by the tail of a G
The winds of our genes and composition of our speech,23 components each
Through the mouth piece, down the woodwind then to the brass, and in between them, the percussion with strings played fast
Whilst our minds cry in pain the forest does the same the stag bows its horns, fish swim on
As the fishers set out the lines, into the depths you dive, treasures and gold you find, but no one wants to buy
They see a moth's head, you a butterfly, snout of a lion's face roaring with pride
We differ in our caring, the handling of the gift, seeing ourselves in a mirror, living with it
We walk alone at sunset, gaze upon the others, we'll never be like them, somehow, our brothers