When you knew that it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of Her hair.

The truth will set you free.. but first, it will make you miserable.

A rose is a rose is a rose.
-Gertrude Stein

The notes rained down and the cellist was one with the universe.

Constantly talking isn’t necessarily communicating.

Now I see with eye serene,
The very heart of the machine.

There the thundering strokes begin,
There the press and there the din.