eWanderer in Search of a Song

Day 2,037, 17:44 • Published in Belgium USA • by MaryamQ

On the morning of the day eWanderer awoke, he heard music. He wasn’t sure of its source, but set out in search of it. As he made his way out into the eWorld, the melody seemed to come and go. Sometimes, it seemed martial, like a national anthem, or perhaps L’Internationale. He rather liked some of these, but they didn’t seem to belong to him. Some of them were more sentimental, speaking of the love of home. He especially liked this one because it was about a wanderer like him, but he wasn’t sure where home was. As he wandered about the eWorld, he discovered that many people sing the same songs, often in unison, but none of their songs seemed to be his, either.



One day, he met a wise man who told him that everyone is born with his own song, but many of us forget our songs. Perhaps we have never really known how to listen. Perhaps others have told us our own music was not good enough and that we must sing another kind. Perhaps we even believed them, but still, somewhere deep inside us, is our own music, just waiting to be heard. The wise man sang his own song to the eWanderer. The eWanderer really liked this one, as it talked about carrying home with you wherever you go, forming a country of the heart that you never can leave. Yet, even this song did not really seem to belong to him.



Then the wise man shared a great truth for him. Others may hear parts of your song and may sing it back to you. Your own soul may also sing it to you in unexpected moments, if you are ready to listen for it. Little by little, the eWanderer came to understand the music that had been calling him from that first day. Sometimes it came a few notes a time, sometimes in long phrases, but gradually, he knew it for his own.



On his journey, he found some people who seemed to know his music and celebrated its uniqueness. One by one, or a few at a time, the people who could hear his music walked beside him on their separate journeys, but even when far apart, they could heart one another’s music, and often at night, together or apart, they danced together, each to his own song.



My Song Is Sung

My song is sung in many ways
With variations in each phrase
Created by the ones who hear
The melody my heart makes clear.
They sing it back in tuneful lays,
In plainsong or baroque displays.
In songs of love, of life, of praise,
Depending on the listening ear,
My song is sung.
Though some contribute orcish plays,
The counterpoint will oft amaze
When with the ones I hold most dear
In harmony from year to year
With multivocal overlays
My song is sung.

MaryamQ

NOTE: If you want to find other people willing to hear your music, see Arjay Phoenician III’s latest article