Only.

I wish I could ignore lyrics at times. There are days when my heart aches to find those that express that which I cannot. Then there are days when I find something so beautiful I can’t bear not to share it. Recorded in a room so silent, so pure, I can decipher fingertips on strings. The stretch and the strain. A harmony appears, moons weaving a sonic orbit. To hear their composure is to sink into a seat of buttery leather at the end of a weary day. Keys pressed in threes and sixes, lefts and rights, blacks and whites, fill the space between with purpose and pause.

The light of a solitary sound appears, the gravitational center. So intentional I felt his lips clip consonants. His voice, whiskey neat. A work of art and craftsmanship, yet inanimate until ingested. Felt. Absorbed. Reveled. Harmony’s reason for being. To open one’s eyes would be to lose a sense, not gain one.

I hesitate to press send. The lyrics say more than I wish to communicate. Bridge a space I wasn’t trying to cross with my own words. Not yet. I prefer stillness. To revel in the calm that is now, awash in your moonlight. Settled. Sipping. Yet, I want this for you. The purpose and pause to fill the space I know you occupy. The room you colored an inky black. The soft light of starlit flames. A small screen open before you, lit by your imagination. And with that, I set my concerns aside.