Guest guest Posted February 18, 2002 Report Share Posted February 18, 2002 The Brahms violin concerto. First movement. The fiddle soars into existence and plays with itself for awhile. Then there is this sweet kissing and holding on. And then this melting into melodies longing cry for more. Be like that. A walk in the wilderness. Heavy rucksack. The morning mist entangling your feet and breath. Suddenly you disturb a pheasant. Flash and glory of fright and flight into the present. Be like that. A little girl tripping to school. Sun gleaming on yellow hair. An old lady watches her daughter in her minds eye. She her womb-child, now dead, now laughing in her belly once more at this vision of little feet tripping to the song of her life. Be like that. The taste of sweet Autumn apples in your mouth. Cider of God. The way you feel when you have just bathed and are loving your body. Moonlight on a lake. The shadows of sleeping swans. Baby drool on your cheeks. A friends hand in your lap. Hugs from a voice in your heart. Be like that. Sometimes words get mixed up in the music. Babies and children become your body, and you can taste again the apple of life in the heart, like sweet wine. Like this, you grow young again with love. You walk with a divine awakening swan around you. You become an instrument in a perfect orchestra again, and fly up startled like a pheasant, from the touch of God. Be like this. love eric Copyright 2002. Eric Ashford. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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