"O' where are you going, traveler" I said.
coat tucked into the wind
billowed hat over your eyes.
gusts of air touch
yet they don't catch your face.
I see curious wrinkles
and a smile of the sun
place to place you wander,
leaving your mark.
a connection of the heart
but never a tethered bond
down your curving path you go
to where you meander, I really do not know.
“O' traveler where are you going?
non-attached you are, show me freedom”.
the traveler shows a gleam of wisdom
a twinkle in his eye, he tells me this,
"I am not special. I am just like you.
seek not, merely look".
so I chance upon a shard of glass
and I gaze into the shimmering mirror
taken aback, epiphany strikes
smiling like the sun, I say, "hello traveler"
if there is a gap between the finite (us) and the infinite, music at least makes one believe not only that there is an infinite, but that he can reach it -- for he can feel it. fire, bliss, and conviction are the plants arising from seeds of music. music is a beautiful, beautiful thing.