Always the same, I know.
Slow march, flighty tunes, heavy sighs, light staccatos, delicate twangs, solemn words.
A lone, lightly-placed note that comes on gently in the midst of the flowing harmonies and soaring choruses makes all the difference. It is not included there as a careless afterthought, but simply because it belonged. Like a compass point, north is where the heart is: it drives you home, safe and sound, where bear hugs envelope you and warm mugs of hot chocolate await you.
Then there is magic – the sprinkling of fairy dust, the slight tingling of the heart; of longing and wanting, anticipating absolutely nothing but for this to go on.
I might just melt into a puddle if I were to one day bear witness to hearing this beautiful song played live.
I should’ve made it matter.