Unfinished Symphony

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Numbers. Statistics. Mostly nameless and faceless victims and casualties. Each an unfinished symphony. And the totals keep growing by the hour. How impersonal, sad and lonely the days have become.

UNFINISHED SYMPHONY

By Al Garcia

Numbers.  Statistics.  Mostly nameless and faceless victims and casualties.  Each an unfinished symphony.  And the totals keep growing by the hour.  How impersonal, sad and lonely the days have become.  How quiet and still the rhythm and harmony of life. -- a life change eclipsing the anticipated climate change. 

And it is the night that enhances my senses of all that is happening around me.  It is when the light begins to dim and the stars and moon begin to rise, that a slow and familiar sound begins to resonate around me.  It is a symphony of sounds, celebrating survival and continuation – the sounds of the night – music to the evening sky, stretched above like a canvas of light immersed in sound and scents that only the night can bring.  Familiar.  Soothing.  A masterpiece of creation.  A night symphony for the mind and for the soul, at a time when our humanness has betrayed us. 

But it is the night that brings me the nameless and faceless shadows of ordinary people that dance like butterflies in my mind, radiating the sounds of human emotions, fluttering and quivering like the whispers of woodwinds or the cries of violins.  Their lives too, a part of the symphony of the night, when their voices disrupt the quietness of their despair and their cries of sorrow echo in the hearts of those who care, while their weak and whispered words of affection and of love, like hope, fading into the background of muffled and muttered indistinguishable sounds of defeat.  A symphony of sound and emotion that penetrates my discerning ear, my passionate heart, and my emotive soul.

I hear the vibrating sounds of life, but cannot feel the touch that once affirmed the normalcy of life.  I hear the echoes of sorrow and of grief, but I cannot begin to mourn because I cannot relate to the emptiness, the quietness, or the isolation and separation that has replaced the music that used to fill the air.  I miss the human passion that was the symphony of life, and I miss nature’s nightly dance of celebration, survival and continuation, by all its creatures, great and small.  A symphony of the night that used to comfort and console me.

Each life filled with the sound of music – each life a symphony in motion.  But I am beginning to realize that when the music stops, so to the dreams and the harmony that brushed against my heart, and made the passing days light up my life.

Oh, to have heard the unfinished symphony of all those nameless and faceless souls who faded away, alone, and desperate to keep the music within them alive.

And my nights now silent.  The music gone. 


Submitted: May 22, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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