Canon in D

 

A broken heart is so difficult to heal and one broken by deceit is especially so. Once left numb and empty, I thought there was no hope for me. I didn't want hope. I didn't want to feel. Feeling was so painful that nothingness called to me.

Enter my Muse, a person who did not know me, nor I them. A chance bit of fate, perhaps, or a messenger from the gods? An angel in disguise? A last ditch effort to keep my feet in this world and find a tether strong enough to make me want to stay.

I found myself sharing things I never intended to share and my Muse listened, shocked enough to ask pointed questions, curious enough to listen, kind enough to continue listening.

Little by little I found myself thawing in the heat of this unbiased love. Simple kindness created a need in me to revisit my stories and from that came the need to paint. Out of the frozen wasteland of my soul came the urge to create again.

And, like a sculptor of souls, my Muse has continued to chisel away at the me I thought was lost forever. Last night I discovered we both love the Pachelbel Canon in D. Music the final inroad to the soul, a way to open up feelings in a healthy way and perhaps become whole again.

This morning I began my day with a musical meditation, something I thought too distracting before, but it opened the door just a bit further. The world is not as dark as I believed. There is light all around me. My Muse has found the remains of a flame and breathed on it with the breath of kindness.