I remember a time.  One of innocent discovery.  Where the day rise would meet the world with scintillating energy.  Even the moments when grief would overwhelm, there was a belief that the next day should be better.  And it would.  The rawness of the time seemed to reflect the unfinished places where I was on the edge of becoming.  There were few constants, save change and music.  My pulse would race or transform into the sea after a raging storm, glassy and calm.  There was always music to mark the time.  Music and its transcendent relationship with truth and emotion waited for my meandering life to straighten, guided me as I took each step.  Too often, the music I hear in my heart is from that time in my life.  Through the throes of pain and heartbreak, disappointment, fear, and the unknown I learned for moments to embrace the uniqueness of being human.  Abject joys, rich discovery of truth, and fond loves all call those resonant chords home.  Melodies that needed no words coupled with lyrics that stand alone spoke of every transition, gave a home to the transient pieces of my life… Until I started to grow up, and move forward.  In many ways, the music is all that is left of the boy that I once was.  Aside from random scribblings and the occasional keepsake, there are few things that tie me to the beloved people and special times.  I know my memory will fail me someday, and I pray often that before it does that I might shuffle off this mortal coil.  I cannot bear not to remember the grace and mercy and love in those times.  So, I listen to music, even songs that I have never enjoyed, just because they set me in my place now.  Without the tones and touch, I would be a wanderer without a past.  At times, I have been just that.  To realign who I am to be, sometimes I must just immerse myself in harmony.  There I find that the true music in me, is not just what I have heard oh these many years, but the symphony of memory and emotion and feeling and grace. 

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