One day,
she sits alone,
and understands it all.
That she’s never been alone.
That all this time
their pain has lived within her,
pain she never asked for,
pain that is not hers to bear.
Clear air is what she knows she is,
not charcoal-grey squalls,
nor black-rimmed mud.
A heavy reality,
a scared, scared world
drowns her in the darkness
of humanity’s shadow.
Until she removes the soot
and clears the air
once again.
Some days,
I take a deep breath
and ask the world to soften.
The world never does soften.
So I fall behind its wind,
and I find my own
peace.
What is this softness
that takes my heart dancing
beneath the sad moon?
When aching life pours from the sky,
and my heart cries
to be heard
for once
without question.
Will I listen?
No.
I will hear,
but I will not listen, for fear,
of what?
The heart needs too much.
The heart needs too much
that I,
whoever I am,
cannot ask life to give.
Music brought me undone again, today.
Unravelled. Beautifully. Thoroughly.
And though it’s not a surprise that music can so easily undress my soul, it is often a surprise to feel the way it surges and dances through my body.
How it grabs hold of my belly, my arms, my legs, and drags itself upwards.
How it grounds me. So deeply, so powerfully I could never fly away.
I don’t know why this happens to me.
All I know is that it is profoundly beautiful.
And I’m grateful.
I’m really so far beyond grateful.
Sweet aching quiet.
Soft night, curled up beside me.
I know you.
I know your fragile whispers, well.
Somewhere between the quiet
and the haze, I go
to sit for a while.
Somewhere
between the quiet
and the haze.
And you might ask me
what I hope to find there.
You might ask me if it’s true.
That the haze shimmers like a thousand suns,
and the quiet melts like vanilla cream
on apple pie, oh, sweet love.
I would tell you
you must seek for yourself
the whispers, true.
Somewhere between the quiet and the haze
you must go.
I’d like to find the sunshine
beneath my pillow, when I wake.
And I will cup it in my hands,
and I will hold it close and whisper:
‘Shine, sweet little light.
Shine ever brightly,
might the pathway ahead
light and walk with me.
How lovely.
The wind of peace.
Here.
Now.
My
how lovely.
Oh, the heat
that I see
that I feel
that I know.
I will be the flame
to my own fire.
I will light the path
of burning
sweet
eternity.
The concept of listening to music.
Curious.
Close your eyes.
Where is the music?
Are you listening?
Or is the music
in
you?
