Its reaching strands
Its probing tendrils
Weaving delicately in and out of my ribs,
Liquid and flowing,
It invades me gently
Soothes me softly.
Whispering to me
Sweet somethings in my ear.
Caressing me, it will protect me.
Its inviting, widespread arms
Into which I fall so readily,
Its subtle fingers
Flitting into my chest
Ensnaring my heart in their iron grip.
Squeezing the essences of sorrow from my core.
And then it's over.
The clutches, suddenly mere fiction.
The journey ends.
The next set of tender arms open,
And I continue
My endless falling,
Into the depths
Of music.