Silver blades are not so sharp,
As the forbidden notes on a harp.
A lifelong duel they shed,
Be ridding ideas generations imbed.
A harmonious flow by the composer was led.
Swearing by the ways of art.

Eyes of furry masked behind a single touch.
A long rivalry only gets improved by so much.
Black keys bend to masquerade.
Enlarged strings begged to be played,
As a low hum echoes off the blade.
Finally the cold hands release their clutch.

They speak with their souls and their hands,
Their halted hate no one understands.
From their hands beauty sings,
A former hate vanishes and an opposing rings.
When chaos disappeared, harmony was their seeings.
Then on love they could temporarily land.

A passion threw at and then freed,
Only for the quartet to see,
The final opinion on love and hate.
While off to the side hate is at wait.
The harmony all settled and once again it’s fate.
The chaos performed after the finale.