2More than just a sound.
How does one describe music as more than just a sound? Music comes as a phantom; a figure swathed in black emerging from the shadows of the mind, wrapping shadowy tendrils around your form and calling you to dance. He draws you upwards, higher and higher as chord after merciless chord crashes upon your soul with waves of fury.
Music is the beat of your heart, the love that you listen to countless times, memorizing each slide and slur until you can hear its song over and over in your mind, and yet have never played.
And yet, Music comes as an angel, of light and purity that nothing on this earth can possess. She comes, weaving a tangled web of golden light around your mind, freeing your soul and gifting your spirit wings. She possesses your mind, deft hands manipulating your thoughts, like pale fingers gracing ivory keys. She holds you prisoner to her power until the song has ended and she returns you to earth, where you could wait an eternity just to have her beckon you to her side once more.
Music is everything and anything; the night and the day and the shadows in between. Perfect and flawed, heavenly and grievous, speaking a thousand languages in the emotions of the world: Music is timeless.
It is the wind whistling through the trees, the leaves whispering forgotten songs of times now past. Its adept touch upon a striking chord is like the lightning striking the air; ripping the sky in two. For those who listen, truly listen, for those who read the language in the wind can read the emotion in the music. Like the encrypted words of the saddest poem it isn't solely about the notes written, nor the keys played, it is the emotion, like a sentence written in a diary laid bare for all those who wish to read… to hear. Music is a window to the soul.
Music is the first sounds you hear: the rejoice in your birth, the hymn, and the lullaby that your mother sang to you as you drifted into oblivion. It is the lament for a love lost, the elegy, the dirge, and the requiem to your life's end.
Like a narcotic, Music is addictive, its user drunk upon its power, racing through the veins as the pulse quickens with every dose. A passion, a fire burning within the raging torments of the mind begging for release. A thirst that nothing but the insatiable desire to play, to sing, to hear… to feel can quench.
And when this specter leaves you, it is as though that which fills you has drained away, and all that is left is an empty shell, as the cravings for fulfillment begin to nettle in your mind; its haunting melody ceasing to play, to rest until you return to Music's side. A cloaking and suffocating wholeness and yet it is the air you breathe.
Though like all things, nothing lasts forever and Music is no exception. Like the ebbing of the tide it leaves you one more, never truly gone, but waiting for you to call upon its power; always with the promise to return.
A/N: Different from my usual style, I decided to try a bit of free verse. Let me know what you think, and I'll review you in return. thanks.