I am fifteen feet from a harp, and behind the harp sits a harpist. And from that harp comes the most exquisite emotion. I don’t think there have ever been words created that echo emotion like music does.
From this harp this emotion floats out to surround us. It weaves around, above and through us. Though we feel its power and physically react to its impact-we cannot grasp it or hold it in our hands. But it very much holds us, cocoons us, embraces us.
Maybe it isn’t echoing emotion, but it is it’s own consciousness. A sensation all to it’s self. Similar to emotion but more mature. More adaptable and flexible.
My daughter and I. Together. Listened.
I’m amazed at the people who can walk past and not acknowledge the sensation flowing from this instrument. I’m shocked that others can’t feel what is weaving around us. More importantly, through us, if we allow it.
I’m not judging. Just surprised.
We don’t want it to stop. This music. This enveloping, soothing, lifting, calming, divinity.
But it does stop.
And we are left alone. In a void.