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
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.