i listen to violins and other instruments as they gather together atop themselves in all their melodies and it is the closest experience i have to articulating what wind feels like; the rising of it, the soaring, how a thing like this can be everything if we only wish it, how it can fall and fly and wonder and witness everything, all at once, and the stories it could tell, each for every star.
i listen to orchestral music and i wonder what the first instrument maker felt in that final moment of creation. to finish the last curve-cut on the smooth surface of bone, and use your own breath to bring it back to a whole new tune of life.
what would it be, to hold the very first instance of an idea to make something that exists only for the kind of connection that is not equivalent to any language: untranslatable. something entirely new, light and incredible, held in the palm of your hand, to echo a sound that will carry on the winds of time for millennium and millennium until it rests in the hands of a future you do not have the even wildest ideas or dreams to fathom. can you imagine it?
to hold such a gift, an invention, right there, under all that brilliant sky.
to not even know the impact of a little thing you spent time creating, that you hold in your small hands on the small patch of landscape you call home; the impact of that one single piece of creativity has for all time to come.
what does that feel like? if i were to guess, i would believe, maybe: joy. so much joy it rivals even that prehistoric night sky, even their brightest star.
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