ORIGIN UNKNOWN; BLAME MY MUSE
Actually, that’s a lie. The initial inspiration for this piece of creative writing came a couple months ago when I was listening to the haunting song “Hallelujah,” written by Leonard Cohen. Since that night I’ve been toying with a haunting song of my own, in written form, and then…..
Well, then my muse whispered to me, as she often does, and gave me the notes necessary to play this melody.
I hope you enjoy it!
THE OPENING CHORD
The opening chord truly sets the tone, four harmonious notes which hint of a darkness, played together, crashing down upon the listener, pinning him in place like some butterfly in a glass case collection for all the world to see. But this butterfly is still alive, unable to break free from the chord, fully aware that pain is never transitory, suffering is sometimes optional, and life can, at times, be anything but beautiful.
A’s are beautiful by themselves, as are C’s, D’s, E’s, F’s, B’s, and G’s, notes from heaven, notes from the divine imagination, notes meant for the angels to sing and the birds to speak….but…..
Add a sharp at just the right moment and the colors are muted, their brilliance thwarted, their hue diminished and rendered objectionable, one sharp, an uplifting of a finger on the keyboard, a slight adjustment of digit on ivory, and a portent of sinister forces appears.
What is to follow, we ask in a whisper, our heart rate spiked, the endorphins kicking into high gear in their rush through our system, for surely no good can come from such an opening chord, and we crouch in anticipation, averting our eyes, wishing we could avert our ears……and then……
Playful fingers dance along the keyboard, frolicking, laughing, a lambs-on-a-summer day prancing across the meadow, no horror at all, no sudden off-with-their heads result but instead a melody to spring, a relax-all-is-well journey, a C chord to an F chord, a G and then back to C, light, even humorous, our averted eyes turn skyward in celebration, our breaths escape in relief.
It repeats, this refrain, then repeats again, playful sprites in the woods, the gods smiling down upon them, impish pixies bounding over brooks and bouquets of wildflowers, their flutes creating a musical backdrop for the natural orchestra, lighthearted and….but wait….what was that? The sound of dissidence, ever so slight, almost an afterthought but no, it was intentional, a flat where flats fear to tread, and then……
The uninvited note fades and silence fills the room, a foreboding settles into place, we wait for the void to be filled but cringe, knowing, hope against hope, that one flat leaving us with thoughts of lost loves, lost loved ones, lost dreams, lost visions and directions, an unwanted cornucopia of melancholy spreads across our mind as we transport back to the shoulda, the coulda, and the woulda, like a malfunctioning projector machine-gunning images, forcing us to duck for fear one will stick and the sadness will be repeated.
And we know what is coming. We have, after all, lived it, and two counts later that opening chord repeats, followed by the nymphs dancing and the flat, in rapid succession now, the chord, the frolic, the flat, over and over and over again, our heads spinning, our wills weakened, we silently implore the maddened gods to bring it all to rest, give us peace, allow us some solace, this can’t be happening, this can’t be real, this can’t be……
But it is…..
The song of life.
2016 William D. Holland