The simple chords and melodies. The short lyrics and rhymes and lullabies.
But I now I know. A hundred songs have inspired a hundred stories. Unwritten and unread.
But slowly and surely it’s come about in the strangest of ways.
And this strange sort of obsession that I find myself loving with millions of others finally sees the light of day.
A minor chord. A middle eight. A trailing segway.
A profound statement. A poignant verse. A fun lyric.
Mixed with a set of characters moving in their worlds. It makes sense to me. In my mind.
That distant sound—what could it be?
The far-off melody—what could it see?
The poet and the singer are the same.
Here in the confines of a stretched-out story.
An epic mini-dramatization.
Love horror thriller sweet.
Emotion doesn’t need a box. A story doesn’t need a base. Love and light don’t
I’m rambling like I do in most of these blogs I never even share.
Songs are stories.
Songs are histories.
Songs are backdrops.
Song are memories.
Songs linger like love like the soft and sweet petals broken and floating on the placid surface of some dark sea.
These songs are stories and they’ve finally found me.