Other Voices

Behind the music I hear voices--and in front. There's something about the weave of them that strikes me, moves me out beyond myself, the seat I'm in, the ground I stand on , the rolls of the ocean. There's something about them.

Maybe it's the sadness behind the notes that makes me happy--I pull joy from the juxtaposition of my own and someone else's grief. It reminds me that i'm not the only one isolated to stagnation and inner motion, that I'm not alone. For the moment, I am not alone and I don't want to hold it, because eventually my strength gives way to empty air and I am left with nothing but memory and then ghosts when the memory fades.

The music's ended, but for now, the people remain, with human voices, not musical notes. Later, when it starts again, I hope they'll be the same. Mainly because I'm tired of losing and letting it all slip away: I'm tired of disillusion. I wish I could trust because it breaks my heart, or what's left of it. It truly breaks my heart because I love them, but I can never have faith that anyone loves me anymore. Too much heartbreak and too much pain prevent too much happiness from growing and later being inevitably uprooted and gone.