I would listen for hours if you kept up the sound, a voice or a song or just the rhythm of breath. Over mountains and canyons or inches of air. What performer and audience we�d be, you could be the timing, I could be the key. I could make the notes if you would keep the beat, the song could bend and curl us by music and body. We�d find the notes in each other�s mouths without having to speak , make the sounds of angels with lips, tongue, and teeth. And so comes the coda, and so comes the wine, and so goes the tempo pounding the time. and hearts break through chests and shatter the bone, and even more quickly the refrain�s coming home. and repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat. stretching and breaking through measures and leads. the shudder, the shake of the movement, the feel. as notes go on shivering up and down scales. as notes go on trembling in treble and bass and aching, just aching for final release. And the last hold, the last stroke, the last counts, and the singers, the players, the scream of scored sound. in melisma, in sighs the timbre, at last, is strung out at volumes that break backbones like glass. and the creation breaks and the glory spills out. if only we had presence of mind to write it down.