Separate futures

The curtain goes up, the lights come on
A young woman sings a beautiful song
She has the voice of a bird, they say
Then another comes, dances like the wind were made of water
And another, who utters verses of rhythm and rhyme
Words so beautiful they would make any tree bow

The audience applauds, the curtain goes down
The performers go their separate ways
Each disappears into a different crowd
I never hear of them again
Our destinies don’t always have to be tied to each other
Perhaps that too is a beautiful thing