Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Invisible Sound

The music he plays resounds
beautifully in my ears.
It is melodious.
It is subtle.
It is smooth. Just like him.
It seduces me to lift myself.
 I move my
 limbs to the
afterthought of each note. I am
flowing water, and nothing in me remains
the same.
I am motion.
A receptacle to the
 messages he flows
into my being. They are words, but of a different nature. They are emotion in the form of
He is the Pied Piper, I follow.
He is the artist, I muse.
He is the singer, I listen.
He is the musician, I dance.
Warmth fills my body, as the sweat gently tingles my palms. My arms. It calms. The coolness spirals around me with each spin.
I am not dizzy, just
unstable. Isn’t that what life is all about, instability? We lose
our ground and spend a moment regaining
ourselves, only to lose it again for the thrill of uncertainty.  He strums something
 that is part of a memory. I can’t quite recall what the song is,
but there is a sense of comfort. The notes call out like

faded whispers. Like a well worn piece of clothing, it fits.

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