Father in heaven, Please hear my desperate prayer: depart not from me. God of all mercies, incline your ear to listen: I desire you here. Lord of creation, exercise your mighty will: my transformation.

The voice of a boy, singing lightly into the microphone. Sweet vibrations, words of low register. Calming, deep strings. He looks to the Lord, calling out for answers. Prayers are pebbles tossed into the universe, producing spherical ripples. The ripples meet their intended receivers, intersecting vibration fields. To sing is to pour pebbles into the pond of the universe, ripples abound, and zoom away, off to meet their makers. Marvel not at the infrastructure. Wonder not how it works, rather understand that it does, and adapt to its processes. Let it function as it will, resist not, allow it passage. When you feel compelled, set down your hand to block its flow and rush; break the tradition it has become. Do this sparingly, only when called by something riding the wind currents. For know, that the river is stronger than you are. But I am strong as the river, because I am the river. Lord help me to be stronger than myself; help me to conquer and hogtie myself. Be my river strength. Carve my landscape with me. Leave your mark through me, and let your mark become mine. Pull me down to the old ocean. Pull me down to rest and return. Collect in me myself. Employ me, Lord, employ me.

To worship, I myself immerse within the structure of thy verse. Delight in the eternal Lord by reading His inspired Word. Thankful on this Sunday eve for gracious pardon and reprieve. Submit myself to Jesus Christ, for me, my saviour sacrificed. Grateful for his selfless act, the visage of old sin now cracked. Can't see myself within that mirror, reflections seem to disappear. Ain't no werewolf, or vampire, these monsters violence require. My soul for peace is now to stand, my heart beginning to expand. My mind shall open up to view the difference between false and true. Give my spirit wings to soar, and eyes a vision to explore. I'll follow the almighty God to walk the road the righteous trod. Direct me Lord, back to your side, unto your law let I abide. I long to reach your dwelling place and look upon your holy face. To kneel before your awesome throne, all traces of my nature gone. Iniquities at last erased, Your patience to blot out my haste. In You am I made finally whole, return the jewel which Satan stole. Let I adorn Your shining crown, a symbol of Your great renown. Until the music dies and ends, my saviour protects and defends. In He I place unbroken trust, for to be safe, and sound, I must. Thank you, Amen.

Celebrate the silence! The entirety without. Magical inclination, respiration suspended, understanding overwhelmed. Breath collected inside of the chest, awaits its expulsion, expression. At once frozen and aflame, a twisting, hurtling spiral. Would that I could live aloft, hanging like this, nearly floating forever. Dissolve into the air, become weightless to fly. Where to go? Where not? Limitless atmosphere, invisible universe, when shall I join you? I hear your voice, the waterlike sound of wind through leaves. "You already have." I have to close my eyes to remember, but in the absence of light, there you are. Light may only pass through. You permit her entrance request. I develop the light, but I inhabit the air. I inquire to the creator of both, is it so necessary that the two must be such enemies? Can we not learn to live in harmony, as three, like all of your precious symbols? The spirit-light of man, such a delicate issue. For in its nature, the wind spirit tends toward curiosity and exploration. Yet the soul of light is without a seeking bone in its imperceptible body. The light is sought and found, never seeking, never finding. Let the wind assist the light and let the light aid the wind Let man be conscious of this fragile dance.

The solace of music, substance of contentment. The air is filled with sounds, and words ride on the wind created by the ceiling fan. A woman's voice, high and light. Her guitar, a powder blue color. I sit and rock, forth and back, and forth again. My foot shakes beneath the desk, in time to the rhythm that is. I have no intention, only to write and see what I say. The music dispels any real thought, any significant notion, any meaningful idea. I am just hosting the music, allowing it to pass through me, and interpreting the sounds into small words upon the screen. I hear the harmonies, and they remind me of birds that fly in perfect formation, and also of different shades of the same color, overlapping and matching quite nicely. I have said before that harmony is my favorite aspect of music. If I had to break it down, I would say that there are three parts to music, these being the rhythm, the melody, and the harmony. The rhythm is pure love, it is the speed, also the beat, the tempo; sometimes invisible, rhythm is the base, the bottom, the underneath, the floor, the Earth of a song. The rhythm provides the stage upon which the rest of the music may occur; the rhythm says, "Here you go." The rhythm is for dancing. It is the prompt. It begins, and that's your cue. The melody is the answer to the prompt of the rhythm. It is for singing, or playing. The melody joins the rhythm, it is carried by the rhythm through time, to its completion and ultimate resolution. The melody is a stream of notes, in an order that is pleasing to the fingertips and eardrums. It starts in one place, and ends in another, perhaps even the same place. The melody has a lifespan, it has a definite measure. It may go wherever it likes, but for it to be pleasing to the eardrums and fingertips, it must return "home," else it should become lost and no longer be recognized or understood; the purpose of a melody is to be remembered. The rhythm is eternal, the melody is temporal. The rhythm must repeat for the rhythm to be. Yet the melody may stand alone, without being repeated or played again. The melody is preserved and saved within memory. Yet the rhythm must be created from scratch each and every time it is needed. Rhythm is toneless while melody is to tone. But harmony... Harmony is different. Harmony may only exist after rhythm and melody have been established; it is an addition, a supplement and complement to the whole; it is extra. It accentuates the melody by occuring within the same rhythm, teasing the melody, giving it a depth and volume. The two notes become eachother. It reproduces the melody. If rhythm is the father, and melody is the mother, then harmony is the child who joins his parents to make the family even more complete than it could have been before; the child helps its parents understand and continue to feel eachother throughout the duration of the song. I love the harmony. I can't explain it. It just sounds so good. I love it because it takes two voices. One voice can sing the melody, but two voices can sing the harmony. Harmony represents friendship, agreement, understanding, and acceptance. It is all I want. Rhythm and Melody are all I need, but Harmony is all I want. God, this music. Thank God for music.