Music offers up a look into the human psyche - the tell tale signs of an individual's life. It whispers and gladdens your mind. Follows you around. Travels through the blood stream, even infecting the white blood cells until your soul is helpless to do anything, but react, but become, but be...rhythm. Sometimes, the color blue comes out with its somewhat jazzy undertones and soft sounds. At other times, a screech rips out which buries the listener under its weight, unable to hold back the strings from joining in. However, there is always a time when it reaches its peak, when the lengths and the waves all join together in mutual harmony across lives, time, and tiny spaces, filling them up with stomping on the ground or questionable lyrics sung at the top of organs while sitting, belting whole lives away. But, at an unsuspecting time, in an unfamiliar place it slips in as a gentle swipe. Like tranquility on silken wings, it glides around, reminding, easing itself in the last section of everything, the outward part, one that is not touched easily and cannot be bought. Then it becomes irreplaceable as anything without is silence. The lack of life.
Music is a big part of my life and my prose poem hopefully reflects that.