To the reader

Some thoughts, I cannot keep.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

The first note

I get ready. My knees pop
and in the silence, it is like the shot before a race. My heart takes off
for the finish line. I do not breathe.

This is why I love it. I forget.

I open my mouth and here comes the first note.
Too loud,
offensive, almost. It is such a surprise.
It moves, washing over upturned faces in the dark and silting down at the back of the room.

I shake with the birth of creation and awareness, I feel hunted and worshiped.

The first note is the true gift, the sounding bell of pleasure for the
ones who listen. A connection exists.

It is like the first touch
from your first love, 
when you suddenly knew
that your heart was too small
to contain
the riot of your soul.

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