What if love was contagious
Like some sort of disease
Affecting all religions and races
Bringing the world to its knees

Where a cure is never found
Where no one even tries
A disease that for years sticks around
Contaminating all of mankind

From a kind word being said
To a hug when it's needed the most
In hopes it quickly spreads
With everyone being the host

What if love was a disease
And it was highly contagious
No need to put us all in quarantine  
Because love is a disease that would save us

The  Zen mind
does away
with the ambiguity
of words and meaning
in silence
insight it does find

"You play it perfectly, just like a recipe. But I don't want it perfect, I want it your way. Spread some identity over it".
She gives me an advice and I lose myself.

Pianissimo/Andante

I am ten years old. My parents had an argue. I reach for my mother with a glass of water, my brother is at school. With my right hand I set the glass in front of her, with my left hand I caress her shoulder. She screams at me and shove the glass on the ground. I am my mother's spilled water.
This is a memory.

Mezzo-forte/Vivace

I am thirteen years old. My father takes me to lunch. The whole time he complains about life and how things are going nowhere with my mother, still we have a good time together. With my right hand I hold the chopsticks, with my left hand I play with the napkin. Our eyes never cross, but we are in touch. I am at peace with them both. I am my father's cigarettes.
This is a lie.

Mezzo-piano/Andante

I am fourteen years old. My brother takes me to the movies everytime things get bad at home. Sometimes we watch two or three movies in a row, never go back before sunset. With my right hand I hold a cup of ice tea, with my left hand I check on his phone. I am my brother's merciful escapes.
This is an illusion.

"Did you hear me? You did a great job! Start practicing changing the dynamic, how does that sound?"

I thank her and leave. Such standard words, she must say them to many more students, no idea the impact they caused on me. I guess I am just doomed to overthinking anything at all. You see, that's the deal. With the right hand, play the melody, with the left hand, play the harmony. I guess I've been focused on the melody, in a world run by the harmony.
On my way home I stop to buy a pack of cigarettes. I light one up and set it on a table, watch it burning. I've quit smoking sometime ago, never really cared for the rush, much less for the taste. After all it's just about seeing how easy the smoke flies by.
I guess I will change the dynamic. From now on:

Crescendo

Upon misery's moat,
we are destined to float.
some of us suffer our wishes,
the rest of us cast for fishes.

Find everyone's escape
Take their advantage away
In the brush
Stripes camouflage
There Shadow's highlights
Mix and fuse
Confuse the mind's eye
Into the whorl of
Leaves limbs and refuse
Into too much data
Therefore I go
Tripping a light
With gray shadow
With an array of quick
Hand moves
Stealthy crawls
The depth calling
Out wild
Inside me without
An
Enemy
Nor friend or foe
But Destiny