enveloped, washed over, striated

Your notes, your chords, your melodies, your harmonies, your voices, your guitars, your high lonesome fiddling, your otherwordly banjo picking, your drumbeats, your basslines thudding in my heart, your Jungian tones and rhythms, your making noise out of feelings where words cannot. Your urges you give me, your urges you satisfy, your urges you provide the soundtrack to, your warm sounds to fall into over and over year into year into year, your harsh sounds to resurrect to when there is nothing else, no one else. Your memory-building, your memory-recalling, your memory-erasing. Your differentness, your sameness, your interconnectedness, your powers to unite and reunite, to destroy, to build, to soothe, to agitate, to signal triumph, to remind us of the many things it means to be human. Thank you. Always.

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