Music from the dance hall

My leather bound prayer book is closed and I’m handing in all my amen’s. With relief I will be waving through the universal spec of me all the way to the finish line without any ordained golden trumpets. The music became louder when I realized my God was not my conductor after all. That was the moment I began a new manuscript, ‘The No God Plan’.

I reason there is life and then there is death, no more, no less. No bass booming out sinner, no strings on a celestial harp to play when you’re dead. I will hear no hell with encores of fire and damnation or eternal soul aria’s within heavenly sanctified gates. This I read plain and loud on my new music sheet.

Our music is our resonating timbre, the time and key signatures of our walk in the score of our life. Our higher notes intrinsic to the tempo of the real us has an innate desire to seek another voice for the duet. I wonder with sadness if my true song is destined for a concerto for one? The unsung know of what I speak …the melodies that have no rhythm for the ears that we sing for. Closing my eyes I sit with my dark musician, a friend that stays with me and listens to the thunderous silence of my fears.

Seems to me our flesh and bone ensemble too often becomes the prowling animal the more we deny our primal howl. We try to tame our hungry teeth for there is the risk and the repercussion of biting our own hands. I see my right hand is now festering from the bite of dancing uninvited in the dance hall. My heart was lured in, followed by my feet when I heard the intoxicating melody of my real name in the band’s music. I was carried away by the music forgetting that my dance card was empty.

Today I face the music of the misplaced and ill conceived drumbeats that produced the bass lines of my undoing. My left hand moves the baton conducting an orchestra raining droplets of musical notes that sound out the very heart of these deeds to an audience of one. My one faithful confidante, the dark musician who I secretly know has always been me. And so I place my right hand in the downpour of my song. A song that is re-writing a new hymn, an invocation guiding me in the grace of our songs are first danced within. I admit I’m in need of some dancing lessons.

© K S Hardy 2009

Music from the dance hall

ArcadiaTempest

Joined November 2008

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Artist's Description

This is written with great respect that we each have our belief about how we view and live life. It is purely a piece of musing and not in anyway to be viewed that I am proposing the ‘No God Plan’ should be Your Truth…

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