Music
And god said "Let there be music".
My toes tapping, my fingers snapping, and my hips swinging, I listened to the melody. Quicksilver notes flying through the air, slipping into my ears, through my brain, and out onto the next person.
Did they carry little particles of me with them? Did they slip from person to person, collecting rhythm and souls? You could almost see them, almost touch them. Sparkly little bits, collected into silky ribbons. I wanted to grab them, hold onto the notes. Maybe thrust them into my heart so I could retain this sense of absolute freedom, carry it with me wherever I went. I wanted to eat them, to let this taste of crisp beauty melt on my tongue and coat my throat with viscous sound.
But the notes eluded my grasping fingers. All I could do was stand there as they rushed through me, molten song melting away my sense of self. Well, maybe not just stand there. For a few moments I could let them drive me, push me into movement. Frantic, sensual, slow, fast. I let the notes dictate where they wanted my body to be, what they wanted my body to do. Let them call to a primitive part of my soul, letting me express awe in the most physical manner possible.
And when the notes fell back into the liquid pool of mercury from which they came, leaving my body rudderless, I'd wake up. A little lost, a little sad, exhilarated and breathless. I'd look around me, seeing all the other souls that I'd been so briefly connected to, shaking their heads as they emerged from their own dreams. A conspiratorial, slightly chagrined smile exchanged here and there. Only through music would we let go so completely, lose ourselves so intensely that we aren’t even aware of what we're doing. How sad. How wonderful.
My toes tapping, my fingers snapping, and my hips swinging, I listened to the melody. Quicksilver notes flying through the air, slipping into my ears, through my brain, and out onto the next person.
Did they carry little particles of me with them? Did they slip from person to person, collecting rhythm and souls? You could almost see them, almost touch them. Sparkly little bits, collected into silky ribbons. I wanted to grab them, hold onto the notes. Maybe thrust them into my heart so I could retain this sense of absolute freedom, carry it with me wherever I went. I wanted to eat them, to let this taste of crisp beauty melt on my tongue and coat my throat with viscous sound.
But the notes eluded my grasping fingers. All I could do was stand there as they rushed through me, molten song melting away my sense of self. Well, maybe not just stand there. For a few moments I could let them drive me, push me into movement. Frantic, sensual, slow, fast. I let the notes dictate where they wanted my body to be, what they wanted my body to do. Let them call to a primitive part of my soul, letting me express awe in the most physical manner possible.
And when the notes fell back into the liquid pool of mercury from which they came, leaving my body rudderless, I'd wake up. A little lost, a little sad, exhilarated and breathless. I'd look around me, seeing all the other souls that I'd been so briefly connected to, shaking their heads as they emerged from their own dreams. A conspiratorial, slightly chagrined smile exchanged here and there. Only through music would we let go so completely, lose ourselves so intensely that we aren’t even aware of what we're doing. How sad. How wonderful.
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