There is nothing else to do,
nowhere else to go,
no one to come home to,
or if you are, shall we say,
spiritually inclined,
no one to chant OM to.
You see (and you do!) this... is... it!

Just this,
a chance like a leaf on a high branch,
to come undone, flutter down, land,
and there, at the root, find rest.

Let it fall to the place it can fall no further from!
Live there!
And when, as you might, finally decide to speak,
announce your discovery of pure and perfect presence,
you will be struck dumb,
stunned like a child just before tears,
mute, like someone upon whose shoulder a butterfly has come.
Moved, but unmoving.
Proof, but unable to offer any.

The perfect fool.

It is into this space that music enters.
It is into this space that hearts become drums
and we hear -- do not listen to -- but hear... music!

Can you hear the molecules and the atoms within,
the sound which ties us to God,
that like an identical twin
knows exactly what we want to say?
It is into this space that music is made.

Can you hear it being played?

Joe and Eddie
Eversound
Kim O'Leary
Geoff Bridgford
Daya Rawat
Tim Hain
Fuzzbee Morse
Stuart Hoffman
Cara Tower
John Adorney
Steve McPeters
Diane Arkenstone
Eliza Gilkyson
Marc Black
Playing for Change
Danny Ellis

Illustration