Music

I listen to the world around me and the symphony about me is wondrous.
The world spins such notes and stanzas at me that I wonder betimes how I could possibly ever know sadness.  But it is there, seeking to kill the goodness.
But it can't get me because I have my protection.  Sometimes it will even look like kindness, dressed up to be my friend - comforting and friendly, but it is a lie. It is the witch wrapped in your mother's afghan, telling you to let her in because it's snowing outside. Thankfully she is in the way of the chords, so it's easy enough to tell she is NOT a part of the world of wonderful notes - she is an abomination.
So I politely tell her she may not come in, and lock the door.
As soon as she is out of sight the music comes again. Swirls of notes and chords. Harmonies that would have made Beethoven weep, and conjectured ...beautifulness...it doesn't even make sense unless you can hear it too.

Can you hear my music?
I know if you can you understand. In it flows life, hope, all the goodness of the Christmas season that never seems to last beyond the end of January...as well as that glowy feeling of your first ...well, anything. Your first car, that first big exensive present you never expected for your birthday in a million years...that is music to me.


Music is the Soul the Fates spun into me, and all I can do is ride with It, following its lead, humbly bowing to its strengths every so often, and harnessing its desires for overexertion at other times.
From harps to whirlywinds, to congoes to bass guitars, trumpets, clarinets, picaloes to tubas, cellos to harmonicas this Dream I know as life is ever a growing creature and even a windchime can hold me rapt, strung to be plucked like the lute is ready for the Bard's fingertips.
Life is what I make it.

What song will you be?

-Hope-