Future Sonata No. 1

I want to talk about music. No—I want to sing about music and the way the melodies lift off the page in the way a violinist lifts their bow off the strings to change notes. Music’s predictable in the way the sheet music always flows to an end, yet unpredictable in the rhythms and changes of melodies. Each day crescendos and decrescendos through the ups and downs of tragedies and comedies, always ending in one last final note. People running through life at prestissimo or allegro, speed filling their weeks with harmonies and different scenes—a cacophony of work and responsibilities

while others flow at adagio, or larghetto, making use of rests, and simple dreams— touring the lands or enjoying comforting amenities. At least with music you never have to guess the ending to a waltz or a cantata; a sonatina always ends with a satisfying note or euphony.

Sometimes it seems preferable to get lost in song and wonder off to unseen destinations instead of focusing on the faraway and unforeseeable future.

Instead we go along in life composing our own songs filled with key changes and repeating measures until the finale finds us, and its too late to change the ending.

Composition was not meant for every musician.