Each held within forgetfulness, a certain note.
A note remembered, felt, not played.
Your note, unique, of precious sound.
You knew you held that note.
You practiced your fine tuning.
At times breaking a string in play.
At times losing, the definition of it’s true gracefulness.
Yet you endured. You persisted.
You practiced, again and again.
Fine tuning...you never gave up.
Knowing your note held, a purity.
(Oil on Canvas, Artist: Amanda Lorence)
An audience of forgetfulness awaits...
But they shall hear. And thus remember.
As our vaster brethren bare witness.
For the vibration shall be played.
As One remembered Melody.
Across Gaia and galaxies.
So many shall want to dance.
So many shall feel it’s crescendo.
The sounds and vibrations.
Of One Eternal Light.