The Orchestra

Silence envelops the air,

Loneliness plaguing the lone perpetrator,

In a silent rhythm of the orchestra…

 

Blackness,

Nothing but the serene void open beyond your soul,

An invisible path to walk upon,

Laying open before you an expanse of sinister soil,

Parched and decaying,

Obscure and impossible to decipher in the absence of light,

Yet, never faltering,

Your steadfast feet clamor ahead,

Onward,

Onward,

Through the stony world of vapors teasing your tired eyes.

 

Somewhere in the distance,

In that inescapable maze of darkness,

You can sense the impending presence of death,

A ledge suddenly vanishing into an unremitting doom,

Waiting vigilantly to seize you,

To swallow your weather beaten limbs,

And shallow, shuddering lungs,

Into an eternal torment and failure.

 

Disoriented,

Senseless and helpless without that beam of beckoning light,

You will your fragile legs to cease their onward plight,

Freezing in the well of darkness,

Searching,

Searching….

For the things that cannot be seen,

Nor heard,

Only felt within the expanse of you dimming soul.

 

Immobility.

Silence.

Fear.

 

Your eyes hunt restlessly through the pitch blackness seeping into your veins,

Pursuing some aspiration,

Some invisible escape that must exist,

An alternative end to the silence,

A way around that prison of never ending descent,

The fall into an even blacker derangement of the world.

 

Your lungs expand,

Breathing heavily against the screen of the unseen,

Your heart tremors,

Bleating feebly in the pounding of ceaseless silence,

Eyes poised, straining through the blindness,

Fist clenched in defiance of resignation to fate,

Skin shivering with cold and confusion,

And your ears straining,

Straining against all rising sounds of the orchestra,

The silent cries of the voiceless violin.

 

Timidly,

As if overshadowed by the weight of the soundless world,

As if straining under its own fear and animosity,

Amid the thundering echoes of quiet,

You can distinguish an almost inaudible song rising from the ashes of the world,

A chord humming in the distance.

 

As you strain to hear the tender wails on the horizon,

The voices become stronger,

Fuller,

More alive.

Breaking through the silence,

The sweet melancholy of a lone instrument whispers through the darkness,

It calls to you,

But you cannot answer.

 

The sweet loneliness of the song flows over your heart,

Captivating your body and soul in understanding,

You can feel the pain,

The tears,

The unyielding sorrow of those strings,

That the lone violin whispers in your ear.

 

Harmony appears as a second tune rises through your consciousness,

This second tune more aching than the last.

You can feel the rhythm,

The sweet synchronization of the songs reverberating in your own limbs.

Your heart floods with warmth,

The notes filling your lungs with air,

With strength, and inspiration…

And hope.

These songs,

These notes,

They sing to you such a familiar song,

Such an unusual melody,

But within your soul,

You know…

You can feel that, beneath the surface,

That outward persona and façade,

It is not just a song,

But a captivating, complex story,

A tale of love, and heart break,

Hope and regret,

On of timeless boundaries and significance…

This song,

This story,

It is yours.

 

With this realization,

A burst of warmth crawls over your skin,

Opens your lungs,

And guides your feet…

Slowly,

But with certainty,

Through the black abyss around you.

In the safety of the music,

You replenish your soul and walk forward,

Unafraid,

Forth from the world behind you.