The most honest song in the entirety of the world is the beating of the human heart. All the time we have spent loving, spent running, spent wasting, is time lost to the wind. We have but our hearts through hell and we have waited for winter just to turn around and weep for the sun. Our hearts wade through the deepest canyons and we fold into the pain that seizes it— cracked, blistered, stitched with the scars of unforgettable aching. I have never once apologized for the self-induced agony. We lust after the breaking and fall in love with the sound of our hearts shattering. “Someone will put it back together”, we say. Until one day we’re crouched down low on the ground, scooping up splintered pieces of our hearts, cursing the one who did this to us. But never did we think to curse ourselves. And as we wait for the leaves to fall over the image of our hearts on the ground, the one inside our chest never thinks to miss a beat.
There is always a sheet of paper. There is always a pen. There is always a way out.
i wish i could explain what music looks like in my mind… i would show you how the bass lines feel when they glide through the space behind my eyes. you could watch my body curl from the notes that trickle down my spine and id document it all for you. id chronicle the path so you’d understand how riffs flow from eardrums to cortex and dive into blood stream. if only i could find proper words to illustrate this phenomenon maybe then you’d appreciate these colors. if for just one moment you could experience these sounds through my senses then you’d understand. you’d know the beauty in the harmonies. in that bass line. in the pause….and the resume. in the breakdown and in the bend. you’d understand the correlation between life and this music, and you’d accept this notion that the whole world moves to a beat. you’d allow the melodies to creep into your consciousness, two-step down your auditory pathway until you can no longer ignore their allure. if only i were a painter. i would create a mural so meticulously to match these chords, and show you what they feel like. then maybe you’d see what i see when music takes over me. maybe if i were a choreographer i could bend and shake and move and dip in ways so rhythmic until you cant help but nod your head in agreement. eyes closed. same tempo as my feet that move with this beat. if only i could make you ears see. i swear i would.