By Jordan Hoffman

Music exists in the space between notes
vertical tangent of
the asymptote of almosts
between the sky and sea

 Music resounds in the questions
in sine waves that wither to
infinitesimal air particles
unsettled into eternity

Music invades the black holes of
blurs the border between dreams and
rattles the cosmic stillness
that sifts the morning from sleep

 and Music seeps into caverns
buried below conscious
where unremedied wounds fester,
longing for a lullaby

so, when your body is hollowed out
with apathy, whittled and vulnerable

when you have relinquished
everything you hoped for,
that you hoarded within you,

Then, you must steep yourself
in the silence.

 Only then are you worthy,
only then are you empty enough
to host Music
only then can you become
the symphony hall,
the sea shell,
the sacred vault
where Music dwells.

back next