Everyone has a music message. Everyone plays in their heart a solace.
He scares me with his. His whisper worlds of empowerment and endurance for struggle. I am scared as hell. Because I've been taunted down that road before. A world of strength turned nasty- I didn't have what it took and I was replaced. Yet words don't fade and they play again and again urging me back into a trap of failure and heart ache with the promise things will get better. He is still playing music of enduring hardship because its the only thing we can count on to define us and make our lives count for something. I am torn wanting to succeed in a retake trail, and knowing when to let go of a sinking ship trying to take me under.
Then she plays music into my other ear. Its music about my past. She sends vibrations of new freedom down my being, and I'm inspired to let go of struggle to dance and let go of my obligations.
Then I try to escape to a world of my own. I play songs of enduring hardship and finding freedom, and loving the self. Even without music words are still loud and soul bearing and ooze unblocked cracks of emotion. Tears land on my guitar as I search for compassion in artist's deep pain. I cry just to cry. It feels good to be a part of something rising.
But my song is only a temporary distraction. It doesn't quiet the clashing blaring of two messages so loudly playing.
I stop all music. I run to the edge where the quiet blows through my soul, and shut out all worlds and turn inside to silence.
Toes curling over edge makes rocks tumble and earth sets free. High toned cracks of hard against hard, falling. Wind blows with endurance and sputter with tired. There is pain, there is fighting, there is free falling freedom. Through it all my heart beats quiet and steady.
Yes, its beating faster when he is around, and it bleeds sore internal tears with anger and pain, but its always beating. Its telling me I will be me no matter what happens outside. The music will blare and melodies with coexist, and theres always the reliable bass.
It gives me the power to choose if I want to follow a path of painful loyalty, or carefree abandonment. Or if I just want to become movement, and learn to waltz through the world without a critical conscience. So I drop my ears, and sink into a comforted world of my own drum. In a world of red passioned currents, somethings are always reliable.