A Moment: The Moment It Is Loud Enough

Below is text from one of my 21 Moments this month. Something that really struck me in the heart.  (Now to translate that feeling into my other writing.)

Hope you enjoy.

The Moment It Is Loud Enough

Not any music will do.

Notes, flat, sharp, or accidental, clash, harmonize, emote. You feel it vibrate in your bones.

Truth and angst scream along the staff, knocking down anything that stands in its way. You feel it in your heart.

Bass thunders pushing the air out of the lungs, you must struggle to inhale. You feel it in the words that rush out with your exhalation.

Guitars. Horns. Drums. Cymbals. Strings. Piano. Pounding voices, shrill and deep and in between, call to you. 

Tears swell. Fears rise and fall.

You can’t hear yourself. You can’t see for the sound. You are blind to your physical yourself, but see into your soul.  

Hate loves. Love hates.

You are trapped. You are free. Transfixed in a moment of space, you are gone.

A drought of doubt. A shower of sound.

An immersion of music.

Not until after, with a raw throat and ears that ring in the deafening silence, will you know. You can’t, you couldn’t, know before. Because the flood of sound keeps you from noticing anything else.

In that moment of unknowing, nothing else matters.

In that moment, it is loud enough.