Eminating Liquid Notes

Some how music makes it all worthwhile.  Like a finished product or the end of a particularly glorious conversation, it is, in itself, the satisfaction.  Its like an unknown feeling you've only just found, and don't want to understand, because it might lose the mystery.  In each moment your mind dances with the cascade of liquid notes.  They echo so loud in the body and mind, as to seem to trade pure `tone for our raw unneeded flesh.  Each little bit of it seems to mix, giving vibrato for each unedited moment and the time, intermingling with the release of notes, ticks slow as each chord becomes the great machine that stops it all completely at once.  Its hard to explain how it all works.  Maybe the rythym is connected to the undercurrent of time and so, we lose focus on what seemed so dear and give ourselves over to the moments of the momentously inspired.  Where it goes we know not yet we feel and at times start to grasp at it only to let it slip through our fingers like a surge of autumn wind.  But maybe its good, after all, nailing it all. down is injurious to the experience so we listen as it gathers and pushes the base of our belly through the top of our skull.    But also, notes can seem to fight with all things natural, engaging with some shocking rhythm that makes it hard to do anything but feel your belly shudder.  But that is not for all.  Instead we ride the wave of the ever-changing archipelago, bounding between beat and lilting note before leaping off the edge of a soaring sonata.  And how it soars.  Eagle wings and feathers in flight.    High cliff diving and the first word spoken after loves declaration.  Where does it come form where does it go.  Some sacred place.  A place where grow things that mimics the horn of plenty.  That is art.  The unknown seldom felt because something fresh was smeared on  a page, gathering and embracing itself before being drawn off into the unknown and distant but not so distantly unknown, each word before the next evaporating into the ether. yet each, together, creating life, mystery, and the story of the endless forever.  Words and notes make up the extant swirl that awakens as we begin to feel without seeing.  Gradually in gathering we find our completion but it takes time and effort and not to little work but what else is worth it except the emanation of emotion from the invisible that gathers energy and a little thought and in beauty as in truth and honesty will remains till the end of time, and all time beside.  As is a will.