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The Prodigy
by Leah K. Oxendine
Not For Sale
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While every-body else his age,
Played with toys, he took the stage
Or at least it was his future, later on.

His mom and daddy were amazed
With this really cool and funky craze
Oh weren’t they glad to have him as their own!

He was just a fellow of six years
Yet he brought his Grammy to tears
When his parents would ask the boy to play some so-ngs.

He was the prodigy,
And it was plain to see!
When his fingers flew across the keys
He played with such amazing ease.
This was something new!
What else could he possibly do?
Nobody could deny
Look out, Mozart, step aside.

Every year he seemed to grow
Not just in looks or stature.
Why, every year he seemed to know
Three times as much as before

And it was ob-vi-ous
When he practiced every day,
As the hours passed away,
No one knew what to say
He’d amazed them once ag-ain.

(after “step aside”)
And he was just a boy of nine!
Never needed nursery rhymes!
No, ragtime was his thing
Scott Joplin’s peach-er-ine.

When friends and fam-ly came to call
Everybody would sit down
Expectantly, for the prodigy,
And another brilliant song.

It may be sounding strange to you,
But this odd boy of 12 plus two
Was the equiv-a-lent
Of the finest gent
And Chopin lived through his hands.
Fantasie Impromptu, every famous tune
Played by ear, didn’t need to look, yet he could sight-read too!

Nobody knew how much time he spent
On this special instr-u-ment…

He was moving on…
After he’d recorded his first song,
Came several big companies
Offering tons of money for his expertise

This 15-year-old
Was now well-known
His name would be a common word
With such an interest he had stirred
In the hearts of those who watched him,
In the ears of those who heard him.

One day at the age of seven-teen
He played a concert like never seen
He’d written songs that dazzled the group
He was fabulous and they all knew.

He stole the hearts of all the girls
Without ever knowing of his dreadful charm,
Piano was his only love
Piano was all he cared about.

With all the people he had seen,
With all the money he had made,
With all the songs that he had played…
And all the perks in his trade,
His repertoire spanned near and far
And he was the foremost star
His name would decorate
The New York Times front page.

He was the prodigy
And it was plain to see
When his fingers flew across the keys
When he played with that delightful ease
Was there nothing he couldn’t do?
Any songs he did not know?
Any knowledge he couldn’t sh-o-w?
Sorry, Mozart, got to move on.

One day at another of his many events,
He really stunned the audience.
Just getting done
This ex-er-tion
You know.
And then he asked his list-en-ers,
“Any songs in part-ic-ular?
Any songs you’d like to hear?”
Cause he could play by ear.

Well he got himself a surprise
When an old lady walked up before his eyes
And smiled the nicest of smiles he’d seen.

“Young man, I do have a request,
Of all the songs, I know it is the best!”
The words fell like a bomb
This was a diff-rent song
And he’d never thought, never knew…
“Amazing Grace?” What would he do?

Well yeah, it’s just a church song,
He thought, rather perplexed.
But how did it go? He’d never heard
What key was it in, at least?

With a diff-rent kind of look,
He glanced up into her eyes.
Now it was quite obvious
This was not his best of times.

“Ma’am, I know it sounds quite silly,
But truly, I really don’t
Know how this tune goes, Ma’am,
Would you happen to have the book?”

With a kind, gentle compassion,
That sparkled in her eyes
She handed him a hymnal
And he found it on page number sixty-five

He played it the best that it could sound,
But there was something wrong.
Nothing with the notes,
No, nothing with the song!
Something stabbed him in his heart
Humiliated, exasperated, he slumped down in his chair.

He was the prodigy
And it’d been plain to see
When his fingers flew across the keys
And he played with such wondrous ease,
But now he’d come to a plateau,
And what did he believe anymore?
He couldn’t step aside
He couldn’t run and hide

Was there any-thing more?
Something else in store?
Life couldn’t revolve around music, could it?
It wasn’t all about piano, was it?
Wasn’t there something more?
Any other open doors?
Had to be something besides
Playing out your heart and then a sleepless night…
Time for a brand new song
Time to be moving on

Your life wasn’t alive
Though you played the songs just right
No matter the position
Your hands were not in real light
There is nothing you can do…
Twas’ nothing you could do…

They say you are a genius but look at you now
Your hands are gripping for solid ground
But you really know it, and all too well,
Piano’s not where the rock can be found.

And will you call upon the One
Who made you, gave you, all you have
Will you call upon the One
Who sent His Only Begotten Son

Will you bow down to your knee,
Admit you really are in need;
Acknowledge His Amazing Grace
Boy, don’t you know He’s the only way?
Oh, don’t you know He’s the only way?

There’s no way else
This is the time
Get up, repent
Before it’s too late.

He was the prodigy
And it was plain to see
When his fingers flew across the keys
When he played with that delightful ease
Could play anything he thought of
Amazed us all so much
But it’s all not worth a thing
If you don’t give it to the King.

No, it’s not worth a thing
If you don’t give it to the King.

If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW

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