It starts—soft,
a thread of sound unspooling in the dark,
a quiet pull at the edge of being.

Close your eyes.

A note bends, weightless,
stretching toward something unseen,
like light slipping through fingertips,
like breath you didn’t know you were holding.

And suddenly, you are drifting—
unbodied,
untethered,
rising through the hush between chords.

Strings shimmer like stardust beneath your skin.
A voice—half air, half ache—
opens like a doorway inside your chest.
The bass hums deep in your bones,
a second heartbeat, steady, certain.

Everything you are dissolves into melody,
into harmony,
into motion.

For a moment—just one—
the world forgets to weigh you down.

And you let go.