My Song

They sing it in four-part harmony
In a marble cathedral--
With my name on the front.
The song echoes into the streets,
Flooding the ears in the parks and theaters
With whispers of my name,
Pulling them in with the tide.
I am one of those
Caught up in the song,
I climb the mountain of marble steps
As curiosity grips my ego,
I fall in step with the herd.
I stand at the door as the people
Sing my song.
How do they know my song?
___________________________Who told them?
____________________________________________How can they sing it?
I don't even understand a word of it.
It sounds beautiful,
But it isn't me.
I'm not so intricate
Or beautiful.
Maybe if I sang the song,
They could hear me as I am.
That is--
Before they think
I'm full of myself.