Of Melancholic Music
Out of the darkness, the music came. Calling, capturing those who dared to listen. Like sirens to the sailor lost at sea, the music allured the people, except me.
It didn't matter what song it played, what movement it was, which instrument it used. It didn't matter that after every song came the devastating emptiness of silence. I knew it would come again, and with its return, the cries of longing unfulfilled.
The strings softly strummed sang an intro to the sun. The drums beat deaf the wooden floor below. The keys depressed rang deep beyond the walls. The walls could not contain it---the walls of human hopes.
I cast aside desire, knowing well the pull of want. The voices call me crazy to give up and take a stand. The music, the instruments, the humming, and the songs, they were of no use outside. They held no allure, no symphony, no harmony to a rider of a broken vessel.
And yet.
The songs came again, inching, whispering to me. The strings that sang to the sun struck through my restless soul. The drums that beat the floor punctuated every heartbeat. And the voices called me crazy not to see that the music from which escape I wanted was the music within me.
***
Day 2 (because November 1 was a holiday :p )
"She never wanted to hold a musical instrument ever again" would be too obvious.
NaNoWriMo, here we go.
Also, oh my, it doesn't rhyme! (Cries of despair)
It didn't matter what song it played, what movement it was, which instrument it used. It didn't matter that after every song came the devastating emptiness of silence. I knew it would come again, and with its return, the cries of longing unfulfilled.
The strings softly strummed sang an intro to the sun. The drums beat deaf the wooden floor below. The keys depressed rang deep beyond the walls. The walls could not contain it---the walls of human hopes.
I cast aside desire, knowing well the pull of want. The voices call me crazy to give up and take a stand. The music, the instruments, the humming, and the songs, they were of no use outside. They held no allure, no symphony, no harmony to a rider of a broken vessel.
And yet.
The songs came again, inching, whispering to me. The strings that sang to the sun struck through my restless soul. The drums that beat the floor punctuated every heartbeat. And the voices called me crazy not to see that the music from which escape I wanted was the music within me.
***
Day 2 (because November 1 was a holiday :p )
"She never wanted to hold a musical instrument ever again" would be too obvious.
NaNoWriMo, here we go.
Also, oh my, it doesn't rhyme! (Cries of despair)
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