What Makes Your Heart Sing?

If you can hear at the end of this offering

music which has no note or sound

yet is made beautiful by art

though It sings all the same,

We may have just shared the song of the heart.

Writing is sometimes magical, a place of peace and solitude.

The space between the paragraphs can also be quite deafening.

Meeting me in the praise and criticism of others challenges my intent

It implores that I recognize the connection with another spirit, another time

Writing here, I leave a piece of myself, I place it in the spaces

Reading here, you pick it up, you touch me, you use me for a while.

I'm so happy to be right where I am...here with you, whoever you are.

If what I write settles within you forever or a moment, we have shared.

How thoughtful of you to give your time to the spaces between the words

and to the phrases that seem to mean what I say.

It isn't the words after all, but the energy behind them thrusting them forward

vibrating the harmonic tones of my thoughts and feelings and great-fulness

There is, I know, great value in expression, the penning our joy

There is, I know, a perfect pitch which hears its equivalent.

Yet, do the trees hear the silence of the wind?

The empty exhibition hall sells nothing, its advertisements fall dormant.

For those who give my thoughts, words and phrases consideration

You give me life and purpose and meaning.You fill the urn of my being.

Thank you, to each of you who invests with me in this trade of symbols and ideas.

Thank you for boldly caring to return the serve and volley over the net, for friendship and fun.

I don't know about time, it's all too nebulous for me.

But I do know I am deeply grateful for this set of moments we exchanged.

Thank you never seems to be enough, instead... I wish for you peace always.

And the freedom to experience the exhilaration of your most ardent dreams.