Em: Baby, what's wrong?
Trev: Nothing.
Em: You don't cry for nothing. Talk to me.
Trev: It's the music.
Em: What about it? You've played this song a thousand times.
Trev: I know.
Em: Well?
Trev: It's different.
Em: The music?
Trev: Yeah.
Em: How?
Trev: If you were to ask me, I'd tell you I've never heard it before.
Em: But--
Trev: I know.
Em: Baby, I don't understand.
Trev: It's you.
Em: What?
Trev: Don't you see?
Em: I have no idea what the frail you are talking about.
Trev: There are moments.
Em: What kind of moments?
Trev: Moments where my heart is pierced with, for lack of a better term, light, maybe insight, but the piercing is such that everything is changed.
Em: How? How is it changed. Talk to me baby.
Trev: Changed like night changes to day.
Em: (stares at him)
Trev: And you know what?
Em: What baby?
Trev: You are my dawn. And in your light, I see as if all before was dark. And this music, with you, is like that. Like I've never heard it before.
Em: (snuggles next to him, leans over, kissing his tears)
With each kiss, another tear fell and this is how they sat, just listening, and crying and kissing--not a word, each lost in the other, lost in the air of angels divine, of an air so pristine to make lungs burn and hearts ache to stop time itself, to be amber, forever amber.
6 comments:
My apologies. I know what I want to say, but this posting utterly misses the depth of an emotion so strong I can't find words to wrap around it. Perhaps Trev should have compared her return to sight after so many months without, that her in his life was like her sight returned, where nothing new is seen, but everything seems as if never seen before. Something like that.
I think I know what your trying to say, and I all to well know the feeling of not being able to find the words. This is the feeling every time I comment, or write for that matter. The mood you write of here is very emotional and stirring. Music has been a part of my entire life. I was in band for 8 years, Jazz, Concert & Marching. Recently, I feel as though I was introduced to music for the first time. It now seems that I hear it differently.
TIGHT HUGS/MWAH
hhHH
As you know, for 96 days, music was taken from me. I cannot stress the cruelty, of more than three months before day 97-1, in the car, driving back from the Vet and on the radio came I Need You Now. Go without something you love dearly. More than that, have it taken away from you in such a way where the real possibility exists they you will never have it back. Then, and only then is the ground set to know, what it is like, when after some time, it returns. Day 97-1 was like that. I don't ever want to live without music again. Nor will I ever take it for granted.
Perspective, hues, life around, life within, where we are. We are not the same yesterday as we are today, thus our emotional reactions, thoughts provoked can be very different. Where we are on our curve, what is going on in our lives, take a general, current thing such as spring and most will say that this turning of the season brings them joy. Of a song being able to touch deeper for what surrounds otherwise, you conveyed this very well.
I know not what it would mean to lose music, and though I have a great love for it, I also know via this blog that yours is greater. I can follow you in comparison however and thereby understand how agonizing it must have been. Writing, though the other end of the scale from the talent that you possess, was something I loved with a passion, lost and have not regained, perhaps never to.
Though you may not have done so as you would have wished, Trev's point, I am sure, both Em and we understood.
I've been unintentionally remiss in commenting upon the images of late. I've noticed several old favourites (some edited perhaps) and it has been so nice to see them again. This image a favourite. Your recent images, as always, have enriched your posts.
Em and Trev are such a pleasure, always so blissful to spend a moment with them.
My dearest Sunshine, I was in my car this morning and listening to the radio and a familiar song played, and yet, in the state of mind I was in, a sense of heightened anticipation, an emotional flurry as a thousand tiny swirling petals on a spring day (remind me to tell you about that experience yesterday) the song was different, felt different. I suppose there is truth to the saying we see the world not as it is but as we are and as I change, so too the seeing and with the way I am seeing now, I'm not sure I can go back to the darkness again. I have walked to the edge of the cliff and have not jumped but leaped and whether I'm flying or falling or both or neither, I don't care because the wind and the breeze and the clouds and the sky have never been so wonderful and blue as now and the intensity is so great I feel like Autumn ripe, bursting with sun and rain, sweetened on the vine of time, so many years to reach this point and the tears are tears of joy, so rich, so deeply personal as to feel as if life is just beginning, that all that I have is a gift, a blessing, and that every moment is a jewel held and cherished and my heart fills a gratefulness as I suppose the morning glory for the sun, as they open and smile upon the rays so warm, so loving, so natural as to erase the sense of sun and flower, where the heat of the petal is both sun and flower without being either alone.
Your words are so joyful, so inherently bright, I would look at an x-ray of my heart half-expecting it to be literally smiling for you, with you. As with all that you have written upon these pages through the years, the amount of emotion we as readers feel in response to your words is above all an indication to us of the enormity of what you, the heart behind the words, felt writing. We can never be another, but through your unique descriptive abilities, your words bring others as close as can be. Your words here, of vine and blessing and time, of jewel and flower and sun, so eloquent in their sincerity, I can hardly contain the pleasure felt reading. Wish I could hug you, then you would know how wonderful it is to see you so.
(ps you could post the second half as a journal entry)
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