When the Black Bird Sings V
iBelong
The world is a mash of black and white.
I can’t see color. And I may even be going blind.
I can’t see color.
But I can hear it.
It flows from my earphones; symphonies of tangled notes and weaves of thoughts spun into sentences. A labyrinth of sounds orchestrating a sense of home.
The days are gray paintings of buzzing nonsense, watered down, dull, sickly pale. Life tastes thin when it hits my tongue as I breathe the first breaths of ever new day. Days that are a myriad of footsteps going every other direction than mine and hours of frostbitten eyes and stale conversations.
But every day I close my eyes and see – no, feel – a rainbow shaped by the music surging through my mind stretch out. And somewhere there’s a source of light and rays of melted gold filters through that rainbow, cascading into my heart and soul. It splashes out in a jigsaw pattern inside my head, every nuance in those songs included in the dash.
Those songs, the songs that are home.
Maybe home is where the heart is? Maybe home is a beat, a thud, a throb, on repeat? A series of rapid thumps radiating a glowing heat. A feeling. This faint flicker saying maybe, just maybe, I belong.
The song, the music. It may be a labyrinth. But unlike the zigzag patterns stretching out along with the shadows upon the ground from dawn to dusk it’s a place where I know how to find my way. I know every step like the back of my hand.
Out in the world. Out in the world I would really need that map which doesn’t exist – I’m so lost. But in the place of crisscross webs of notes every tone, every beat, every syllable chained in formations is so so familiar. The whole track list in the little device able to play music, all of it. Every single sound is home.
And I never knew I belonged. I never knew. Never knew until they told me.
Once I realized it had me thinking. If I belong, then maybe I’m not alone? Maybe we all who have our homes in those special songs belong? Maybe we have each other?
I don’t know. Is there even an answer? Did I even ask the right question?
But it seems like I’m not alone.
And it seems like I truly do have a safe heaven where I don’t have to feel awkward and out of place, though it may just be a feeling.
A feeling. A feeling that’s impossible to shake. Even if I wanted to I could never get rid of it. It has nestled too deep. It’s one irreplaceable fragment of the sound that the thumping lump inside my chest cerates.
My heart has been tuned to this one song.
A song that rings just a bit clearer than the rest and although the world is grey and chill that song vocalizes reassurance. Weaving threads of hope. Arranging sounds into warmth and color.
And though my days are gray paintings of blurry shades, the music is always there.
Every day it pours from my earphones into my conscious, the sounds of home.
Every day this one song teaches me what’s now engraved in the shiny surface at the back of my music playing device.
Every day I read it just to make sure it’s still true.
iBelong
I can’t see color. And I may even be going blind.
I can’t see color.
But I can hear it.
It flows from my earphones; symphonies of tangled notes and weaves of thoughts spun into sentences. A labyrinth of sounds orchestrating a sense of home.
The days are gray paintings of buzzing nonsense, watered down, dull, sickly pale. Life tastes thin when it hits my tongue as I breathe the first breaths of ever new day. Days that are a myriad of footsteps going every other direction than mine and hours of frostbitten eyes and stale conversations.
But every day I close my eyes and see – no, feel – a rainbow shaped by the music surging through my mind stretch out. And somewhere there’s a source of light and rays of melted gold filters through that rainbow, cascading into my heart and soul. It splashes out in a jigsaw pattern inside my head, every nuance in those songs included in the dash.
Those songs, the songs that are home.
Maybe home is where the heart is? Maybe home is a beat, a thud, a throb, on repeat? A series of rapid thumps radiating a glowing heat. A feeling. This faint flicker saying maybe, just maybe, I belong.
The song, the music. It may be a labyrinth. But unlike the zigzag patterns stretching out along with the shadows upon the ground from dawn to dusk it’s a place where I know how to find my way. I know every step like the back of my hand.
Out in the world. Out in the world I would really need that map which doesn’t exist – I’m so lost. But in the place of crisscross webs of notes every tone, every beat, every syllable chained in formations is so so familiar. The whole track list in the little device able to play music, all of it. Every single sound is home.
And I never knew I belonged. I never knew. Never knew until they told me.
Once I realized it had me thinking. If I belong, then maybe I’m not alone? Maybe we all who have our homes in those special songs belong? Maybe we have each other?
I don’t know. Is there even an answer? Did I even ask the right question?
But it seems like I’m not alone.
And it seems like I truly do have a safe heaven where I don’t have to feel awkward and out of place, though it may just be a feeling.
A feeling. A feeling that’s impossible to shake. Even if I wanted to I could never get rid of it. It has nestled too deep. It’s one irreplaceable fragment of the sound that the thumping lump inside my chest cerates.
My heart has been tuned to this one song.
A song that rings just a bit clearer than the rest and although the world is grey and chill that song vocalizes reassurance. Weaving threads of hope. Arranging sounds into warmth and color.
And though my days are gray paintings of blurry shades, the music is always there.
Every day it pours from my earphones into my conscious, the sounds of home.
Every day this one song teaches me what’s now engraved in the shiny surface at the back of my music playing device.
Every day I read it just to make sure it’s still true.
iBelong
♠ ♠ ♠
Dedicated to Sara (Heavy Breeding).You’re part of home.