If there were music, divine and beautiful music, that could reach in and caress my hurt, I would open myself by grabbing hold of my chest bones, ripping them apart and letting it devour me wholly. Music to teach me to love, to live and to die. I would lose myself in it, living every note, every nuance, every cord, every instrument until I left myself so far behind that when I looked over my shoulder I would see my weeping self far off in the distance. I would want this music to take me off, to some distant place, perhaps Orion’s Belt, where, if I were lucky the searing heat from the nebula, from the stars, the comets, would make all traces of me disappear, gone forever, from even memory perhaps. Piano and violin, stars and moons …lost infinitely together. Beautiful. Dancing as they would, timeless and classic, haunting and amazing. Perhaps it would be the violin solely, crying…for me…because it feels the hopelessness and the down to the bone marrow ache that exists within. I want to dance, to fly, to live among the vast incomprehensible void that exists beyond our own small and somehow insignificant world. All of this, if music could do that. Sweet music, won’t you please take me to the heavens and leave me there?
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