Music is my blood type and I let my soul be responsible for transfusions given and received.
These musical vibrations synchronise the polarity of my soul matter, no more the lost, yet the found, attracted to the sound of heaven.
Music was my genesis and is my forever destination.
Music is the translation of my soul.
The music is my external heartbeat and the lyrics are my soul in sweet vibrations; I could sing forever these poetic words, my ode to the universal love and one another, to nature and creation. Yet all of it is right there when in that momentary exchange of glances, when our eyes meet and we smile from within. So though the world may love my music, my words and these songs, music really only lives in those intense moments of love we give without ever trying, those looks that are barely glances, in the bond we made so accidentally. Love is music without volume, but it's also a seed that grows to form infinite branches, roots and blooms, and through my soul, through this sense of intuition that demands a voice, the part of music we can hear, what the world thinks of as music, is born.
There are times it feels as if the music is teaching my brain how to flow, how to be so peaceful. It's as if the slowly changing tone touches different parts, a sort of auditory massage for my mind. It is an invitation for slowness and to feel the presence of myself, the ever patient version of me who waits to be spoken to, and is content to do so. There are times light, wind and nature do the same, yet differently, each in their own way. Today is a day of music, to feel the soul within.
Music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter, but always it speaks to them in some manner. A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, or move them to dance, whilst a slow one can relax the mood. Before the notes filled the air every person was an island, with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm.
The lyrics swim through my cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream, the notes relaxing me, enabling the song to call to my entire being. Music could never be something superfluous to me, it is medicine delivered in the most divine way.
The latin music cranks my joy right up, hijacking my brain. Somehow the scent of lavender get's infused with the beats and feel like I'm dancing in Adri's garden again, a chilled bottle of wine on the deck table and glasses in various states of being emptied.
I could eat the air and drink the music, so heady is the fragrance of the saffron rice and the melody of the sitar. The sun is hot in a way that dries the soil underfoot and warms everything one touches from the wooden table to the metal cups.
Lila lived for music. If she could hear it played live she began to tingle, even for a solitary instrument. There was something about the vibrations that felt so heavenly, as if it were liquid energy seeping right through her skin. Her mother said it was because she was blind, that her mind over compensated, but Lila swore she'd be just the same way with or without sight. Perhaps that's why she learnt to play so well, she felt it, craved it, expressed emotions better than any of her peers.