Prelude

This is not a Music Review. This might not even be your typical post – it is just the result of hours spent listening to music!. I am writing it unedited, uncut, uncensored. I am allowing myself be…

I cried … I was at work today and I cried …
I am certain you would too
It was all His’s fault

There was or There is something about the way he organises his music
from the lusty tidal wave of the violins
as they move in a torrent of overwhelming strokes – con fuoco
pulling you in, sucking you in a vortex
to the soft pleadings on the keys of the piano
A swirling motif that turns on itself
and pulls you in…

In my mind
It started with the gentle cry of the ocean
then slowly faded as a horn whispered in solemn tunes
I wasn’t at work anymore
Instead I found myself at the edge of a hill
a fierce storm silently approaching
I closed my eyes and imagined my life playing out to the sounds of the music
It was neither here nor there
Yet there was an ethereal definition about it…
Something was about to happen
I stood poised at the prelude of a grand event

The music cascaded on almost battaglia like
till the bellow of a bouzouki broke in
almost like the angry retort of a woman scorned
her low pitch rising till her heart’s content lay bare
and there she lay broken
– there i lay broken
I lay utterly exposed
My soul wrenched out from within me

He drew me in
Like a master conductor
every note carefully constructed
every tone, every semitone gently crafted
to remind me, taking me back – nostalgia
a whirlwind of notes of varying and unrelenting tempo
Yet without words
nudging me on through the hallowed halls of time

No WORDS! no box to contain the melody. No fetters …
I was left to travel on my own, to make his music my own
No vocals … Never before had i felt so…
No guitar riffs
I felt a rush of emotions, an intense deluge
a sense, perhaps, of a passionate lover holding on to his love
it was more than just the harmony of horns and stringed boxes
No thundering drumbeats
I could, in that moment, feel his carpals tug at my heart

Love, Joy, Sadness,
Memories lost came knocking
Moments etched in stone heightened
the seductive interplay of the piano and trumpets
ending in cadenza
This was what he wanted
and so I cried

_____________________________

I tried to imagine what heaven would be like
An unending sea of choruses
Ceaseless worship
No matter how angels scale the heights of musical perfection
None of them knows the song of the saved
No one angel has sang from a heart redeemed
HERE We stand at the precipice of time
We are poised gallantly
awaiting HIS return
The Music Maker
I can only imagine
Every service, every concert
Every minute spent in the shower singing
is just a prelude
We stand waiting
for the greatest concert to start
Where music will rage
Not from six-stringed instruments
but from hearts unfettered
from lips filled with fruits of praise
I cry as I wonder
Sopranos from the Oriental shores
Altos from the Alps
Tenors from the Zaire and Capetown
Voices all around the world
A MAJESTIC MOTIF rising on the wings of praise
swirling in our hearts
from the moment till eternity’s end…

what does the music you listen to say to you??

Petroleum engineer? Yup. But I love writing as much as I love solving complex reservoir engineering problems. Watch out for poetry. Still trying to soar the heights of prose tho' Stay tuned dearies.

4 thoughts on “Prelude

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