“For the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have a rest”, Lord Byron.

 

Free at last, I went up to the highest rocky mountain

Found a vast open plain and sat by a lively stream

The gentle breeze made sounds in the common reeds

While I lamented my soul on my flute playing my wishful dreams
 

Like blind happiness, beneath and above everything that lives

The restlessness heard itself; a tone represented featured motives

A melody began longingly as a call to that which was absent

It reached the distant beloved, became a magical love-enchantment
 

The weeping goddess let the aura in and felt enraptured for a blink

Signs of awakening caressed her ears, she was no more homesick

The great wall in between tumbled down blithely brick by brick

Each harmonious note touched her heart in my Symphony Fantastic
 

Holophoner Symphony.

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