There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse
― Sappho
As a cynical, angst ridden teenager, it is difficult to bring a genuine smile to my face as no one understands me, and it’s like my mother was born in her forties. Those who tell me that its just a phase are simply wrong, they cannot see that this is who I am, my angst is not just due to a chemical imbalance in my body it is the inner workings of my soul. As I said, it is very difficult to make my smile, there are few people who posses this divine talent. One of the few people who have this ability is an old friend by the name of Cate Moglia; she has always found a way to make me laugh with her infectiously happy personality.
But even the most pristine rose is not without its natural helping of thorns, and she possesses some of the most deadly, these thorns are the most dangerous as they do not pierce the skin, simply the heart. Her thorns take the form of a voice, one of such euphonious nature that the gods themselves take leave from their ambrosia filled halls to bear witness to her solemn, resplendent voice. Though there is nothing immediately unfitting in having a voice so graceful that its appearance can lull the innate depravity of nature, yet within this talent lays a weapon, one of such potency the self same gods who do attend her at her elocution dare not overstay their welcome, for they too know that no creature beneath the sun or beyond the stars is immune to these thorns. With each lyric, she imparts the curse of Icarus upon those watching, the curse of being amongst natures raw beauty, yet knowing it to be as uncontrollable as it is beautiful. Just as Icarus flew too close to the sun, those who align oneself with her voice to hear her opiate-like nature, will fall, and be overcome by the enfolding melody woven by nature. Once taken in by this paralyzing force it leaves. Once at the pinnacle of human reverence, it retreats, and leaves the thorns in its wake. Once a majestic spectacle, it then becomes something beyond human reach, it drains those who hear it as they know that they could never emulate such power once again. It leaves even the gods empty, and humbly pining for even a microscopic hint of her aria. The thorns are not in her talents, but in the dreaded space in-between.
For one who is cynical by instinct, standoffish in nature and searches for flaws in the most beautiful of things, it is not easy for me to see and accept such merit in something as simple as a voice. Nevertheless, in my disbelief I am swept away from my bullish nature being able to offer no opposition, for such is the immobilizing power of this muse. In its solidarity, her voice is just that, a beautiful voice, yet where it transcends the mortal boundaries that would bind an average voice is the passion she exudes in each note. If I just want to be serenaded by a nice melody, and clever lyrics, it costs me nothing more than a tupenny for the jukebox, but if I want to truly feel, if I want to understand what mastery over an element is, I go to her. I go to her because she knows what it means to sing, but more importantly, she understands what it means to feel. This transcendence, coupled with a stunning voice is where the power to leave nymphs and gods so dumbfounded that they can but find themselves as mortals before her, and mortals are so uplifted on the currents of her angelic expression that they feel godhood, if only for a moment. This power is not one to be taken lightly, neither is it’s origin. As a person, and a friend she is truly invaluable, and this is where the power comes from. When she cares, she truly cares, when she feels, that feeling comes from her very core. Beyond a singer, a ballad and a poet, she is a true companion; she knows what is needed and how to remedy any situation that is placed in front of her, so when she sings she conveys that to any who listens. When she sings, it is not her singing, but the concepts, it is the very concept that is singing, and she is a channel that delivers the message. Yet, the question remains, is it such a great accomplishment if she is but a channel? Well, yes. If you or I attempted to align ourselves with such a powerful feeling as love, we would be lost in an instant, and not come close to knowing where to start. Her nature is such that she can make a connection in life to those things that elude the rest of us, and in that connection comes the sweet, sweet sound of raw connection. It is her privilege to make this connection, and it is ours to bear witness: for she is a rose by every other name, and just as sweet.
― Sappho
As a cynical, angst ridden teenager, it is difficult to bring a genuine smile to my face as no one understands me, and it’s like my mother was born in her forties. Those who tell me that its just a phase are simply wrong, they cannot see that this is who I am, my angst is not just due to a chemical imbalance in my body it is the inner workings of my soul. As I said, it is very difficult to make my smile, there are few people who posses this divine talent. One of the few people who have this ability is an old friend by the name of Cate Moglia; she has always found a way to make me laugh with her infectiously happy personality.
But even the most pristine rose is not without its natural helping of thorns, and she possesses some of the most deadly, these thorns are the most dangerous as they do not pierce the skin, simply the heart. Her thorns take the form of a voice, one of such euphonious nature that the gods themselves take leave from their ambrosia filled halls to bear witness to her solemn, resplendent voice. Though there is nothing immediately unfitting in having a voice so graceful that its appearance can lull the innate depravity of nature, yet within this talent lays a weapon, one of such potency the self same gods who do attend her at her elocution dare not overstay their welcome, for they too know that no creature beneath the sun or beyond the stars is immune to these thorns. With each lyric, she imparts the curse of Icarus upon those watching, the curse of being amongst natures raw beauty, yet knowing it to be as uncontrollable as it is beautiful. Just as Icarus flew too close to the sun, those who align oneself with her voice to hear her opiate-like nature, will fall, and be overcome by the enfolding melody woven by nature. Once taken in by this paralyzing force it leaves. Once at the pinnacle of human reverence, it retreats, and leaves the thorns in its wake. Once a majestic spectacle, it then becomes something beyond human reach, it drains those who hear it as they know that they could never emulate such power once again. It leaves even the gods empty, and humbly pining for even a microscopic hint of her aria. The thorns are not in her talents, but in the dreaded space in-between.
For one who is cynical by instinct, standoffish in nature and searches for flaws in the most beautiful of things, it is not easy for me to see and accept such merit in something as simple as a voice. Nevertheless, in my disbelief I am swept away from my bullish nature being able to offer no opposition, for such is the immobilizing power of this muse. In its solidarity, her voice is just that, a beautiful voice, yet where it transcends the mortal boundaries that would bind an average voice is the passion she exudes in each note. If I just want to be serenaded by a nice melody, and clever lyrics, it costs me nothing more than a tupenny for the jukebox, but if I want to truly feel, if I want to understand what mastery over an element is, I go to her. I go to her because she knows what it means to sing, but more importantly, she understands what it means to feel. This transcendence, coupled with a stunning voice is where the power to leave nymphs and gods so dumbfounded that they can but find themselves as mortals before her, and mortals are so uplifted on the currents of her angelic expression that they feel godhood, if only for a moment. This power is not one to be taken lightly, neither is it’s origin. As a person, and a friend she is truly invaluable, and this is where the power comes from. When she cares, she truly cares, when she feels, that feeling comes from her very core. Beyond a singer, a ballad and a poet, she is a true companion; she knows what is needed and how to remedy any situation that is placed in front of her, so when she sings she conveys that to any who listens. When she sings, it is not her singing, but the concepts, it is the very concept that is singing, and she is a channel that delivers the message. Yet, the question remains, is it such a great accomplishment if she is but a channel? Well, yes. If you or I attempted to align ourselves with such a powerful feeling as love, we would be lost in an instant, and not come close to knowing where to start. Her nature is such that she can make a connection in life to those things that elude the rest of us, and in that connection comes the sweet, sweet sound of raw connection. It is her privilege to make this connection, and it is ours to bear witness: for she is a rose by every other name, and just as sweet.