Space that Sings

(A composer is struggling with the thought of suicide.)

He tells you there's no other way out. Yet behind his crisis and his pain hangs the unsung. You ask yourself: How could he die with all his music in him? Now where all the prose of reason fails - beneath the suffering, the wrong done - something new: beauty in search of a tone, morning in search of a heart .... The night wears out. New notes invade his thinking, thrusting from a diatonic of hopes that were dead. Outside the robins start. Slowly he turns to learn the yearning, let forgiving flow ... An hour ago life was unlivable. Across his thought now breathes a swathe of sound peopled by young wings no hand can trace. Sunlight has found his face. Uncodified, a new family of tones secures in him once more space that sings ....

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