Diary Entry 9

As music begins

to infuse a soul,

the body closes its eyes

embracing the toll.

Like a coveted drink,

it enters the ears,

cleansing the body

with so much more than hear.

The smell of the notes,

whether earthy or sweet,

bring tears to closed lids

inscribing their beat.

Fiddle strings tickle

sensitive nerves,

and with shape of the wood

a body flows with its curve.

The thunderous bass

resonates willing bones;

all control of their movement

one gladly disowns.

To this marionette,

all strings are connected;

mind, body, and soul

contagiously infected.

Eight mandolin strings

latch on to eight ribs;

the remaining ones

swiftly cast away on this ship.

The guitar, not forgotten

plays its integral part,

conducting the strings

ever toward the heart.

Now, occasionally, an instrument

must sing alone,

but it’s never long

strings rejoin the tone.



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