My Phantom
Moonbeams skip across the sparkling waters as I sit, alone in the twilight.
Through the darkness, piercing the black, a golden voice echoes in the
night. Soft and entreating, it caresses me, beckoning for me to release
myself. It steals about me until I am surrounded by the gloriousness of the
melody. Willingly I give up my soul to the music; opening my mind to the
symphony of the night. I am taken into the harmony; it becomes one with me.
I close my eyes and let it enter, begging the sweet, wistful tune to fill
my heart, and mind, and soul, all of me, with its beauty. To have the music
embrace me with all its beauty and sorrow, joy and fervor. I yearn for it.
The song crescendos; all around me falls into the shadows and becomes
nothing. The overpowering sound consumes me. I, in my passion, gladly join
in song, my single meager voice no longer weak and helpless against the
mighty, blazing opera. Silver, it rises up to unite and blend with the
golden voice, the one who called me. The music bursts, flooding over all in
its path. I am not afraid, rather, in awe. The voice becomes louder, more
defined; and though he is all around, in the music, he is behind me, softly
crooning in my ear, as to a child; a part of the harmony, yet sweeter,
delicate, set apart. I turn to face him and, lifting my hands to him, beg
him to forever sing, forever teach, forever be. With great power, he
commands me to sing for him. I do not say yay, or nay, or pause to think,
but simply do. With this man before me, my teacher, my voice pours out;
effortless, magnificent, and no longer mine. He now controls the music, my
voice, myself, all he surveys and desires. The climax intensifies; echoing
loudly against the still night, then gradually becomes softer, gentler,
like waves receding from the shore. All too soon, his voice is but a
whisper in my ear. The music fades, and is gone; I turn and see he is gone,
too. Shivering, I look around me. I have awakened to garish sunlight
streaming through my window. Once again, I look forward to the night, the
dark; and my next lesson with my teacher, my angel of music, my phantom.
Moonbeams skip across the sparkling waters as I sit, alone in the twilight.
Through the darkness, piercing the black, a golden voice echoes in the
night. Soft and entreating, it caresses me, beckoning for me to release
myself. It steals about me until I am surrounded by the gloriousness of the
melody. Willingly I give up my soul to the music; opening my mind to the
symphony of the night. I am taken into the harmony; it becomes one with me.
I close my eyes and let it enter, begging the sweet, wistful tune to fill
my heart, and mind, and soul, all of me, with its beauty. To have the music
embrace me with all its beauty and sorrow, joy and fervor. I yearn for it.
The song crescendos; all around me falls into the shadows and becomes
nothing. The overpowering sound consumes me. I, in my passion, gladly join
in song, my single meager voice no longer weak and helpless against the
mighty, blazing opera. Silver, it rises up to unite and blend with the
golden voice, the one who called me. The music bursts, flooding over all in
its path. I am not afraid, rather, in awe. The voice becomes louder, more
defined; and though he is all around, in the music, he is behind me, softly
crooning in my ear, as to a child; a part of the harmony, yet sweeter,
delicate, set apart. I turn to face him and, lifting my hands to him, beg
him to forever sing, forever teach, forever be. With great power, he
commands me to sing for him. I do not say yay, or nay, or pause to think,
but simply do. With this man before me, my teacher, my voice pours out;
effortless, magnificent, and no longer mine. He now controls the music, my
voice, myself, all he surveys and desires. The climax intensifies; echoing
loudly against the still night, then gradually becomes softer, gentler,
like waves receding from the shore. All too soon, his voice is but a
whisper in my ear. The music fades, and is gone; I turn and see he is gone,
too. Shivering, I look around me. I have awakened to garish sunlight
streaming through my window. Once again, I look forward to the night, the
dark; and my next lesson with my teacher, my angel of music, my phantom.