I’ve talked before about people who have lyrical minds. Artists mostly. An artist of any form can be lyrical. It doesn’t have to be “word” usage.

For the line above I see many stories. The most glaring is the one I will write today. I hope you will feel comfortable to write your interpretation in the comments below.

The background is a multitude of greens, blues, and purples. Like the Florida sky at sunset on a little island off the coast. Music notes drift in the air on invisible lines. A slim silhouette sways with the sound. Her long, pale hair glides slowly behind her as though she is dancing under water. You can’t hear the music she dances to. You can only hear the occasional humming she makes as the melody breathes life into her steps. Her arms gracefully lift above her head. She twirls to the left and steps softly to the right. Her ankles cross delicately and on her tip toes she reaches for an unseen object.

Her face is hidden in the glow of the colors. The musical notes start to fall around her as though they too are dancing. She turns in a circle, swirling the music around with her hair. They fly up into the sky to hover above her form. Her dream is to dance. She lives her dream in every step she takes, every note she hums. She is perfection. She is beauty. The dark shadows are ever present in the corners of her shape. She keeps them immobile with the dreams of her dancing. She begins to grow a bit larger in size. She steps up on a platform that isn’t visible to you or I. Up the steps she glides, making every movement look flawless.

Her smile lights her face. We cannot see her features but we can recognize the magnificence of that expression. She is now on stage of the most importance dance of her life. The tempo picks up and she meets that tempo with gusto. Her body moves in perfect rhythm to her magical song.

Then she stops. The colors fade to a muted blue and the sounds of the world pervade. Her dream has ended with the intrusion of the alarm clock. Another dream. A shining dream of beauty. She will always picture music in her dreams of shining beauty.

My next fridge phrase came to me yesterday as the above. I love standing there staring at this massive jumble of words now splayed across my refrigerator. Then I see certain words pop out at me. I gave this one a day to stew. I wanted to pass by it over and over to read it in my mind.

I am interested in what these words mean to you? Some people have lyrical minds. Their brains see stories in everything. Others do not. Nothing wrong with either mind. I am fascinated by both. I would love to hear what you have to say about it. Does this prompt something obvious to you? Or do you hear a story in there?

I see a tortured soul, longing for something she can never have. I see her curled in the fetal position in her bed, late at night. All the lights are off, the sounds of the world passing by her window. The moon shines down on her curtains, begging to be seen. She cannot face the moon tonight. She sees and hears only sweet pictures in her mind. Maybe a loved one that passed away or a previous lover that has moved on. Her pictures are beautiful. They would bring any normal person such joy. For her, they bring only pain and sorrow.

She must scream them away before she can sleep, and sleep does not come willingly. The scream may be a metaphor or quite literal. It matters not. But scream she must. Her memories do not come silently or stay softly in the background. They are loud and always present in her mind. Her sweet pictures do not whisper.

~Jayde

Two souls are resting together in a plane of non-existance. One lightly strokes the other’s soul as they twist and turn with the whisper of the wind. The black moon shines down upon them. The air slithers around their bodies. It looks as though the bodies are drifting on the surface of a sea, unseen by man or beast.

Their eyes never meet but their thoughts are only ever on each other. Their skin is always touching in at least one area. To be without that contact is to be without life itself. What would life matter without the shadow of his death? Quiet? Solitary? Or too loud, too much, too overwhelming with all the needs and wants of the masses.

To lie beneath their black moon together in this nothing world-between-worlds and play with the shadow of his death is the only way to feel anything at all.

~Jayde

Thank you for following. I hope you find something here worth reading.