There was something waltz-like about the piece. It stirred a little dance and a little dream.
A little darkness, and a bit of shadow. Dark like the iron shavings we would watch assemble in wondrous form atop a magnet in grade school. Dark like the nights near the end of summer, when the canopy of full tree leaves stretches wide and far to obliterate the most noble efforts of the moon. Dark like the secrets we keep in the name of protection and solace. Dark like the secrets we keep in the name of shame.
The summer is slowly slipping away in the night. The heat doesn’t hold its trance like it did just a few days ago. And yet we hang on, even as we grow weary – instinct and hope acting as much as habit and laziness. A week ends and begins, and August is about to depart for another year.
Ruminating upon this piece of music, I am challenged to do something – anything – to keep going. Creation beckons. Inspiration whispers. A shift is signaled by a change in atmosphere. The music keeps time. The world shudders and lets go of the dark.
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