It’s not who she is that begs the lyric; not what he wants that’s the melody’s thread. Instead: when something stirs and merges one and one; makes failing math, is short two by a half; when boundaries gently blur; when bodies move without one saying stay, one saying go…

There is Music’s spring, if not the spring of everything.

Or, what I mean: it’s where the spirits meet that fuels the fire; it’s where they part that puts it out.

In either case, a song won’t teach you, if touch is not what it’s about. The heart of music cannot beat, without a heart within it, and another heart that’s meant to win it.

You reach, I reach.
The sound that greets the ear
is where the music’s from, my dear.

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