The music

There was a small tune.

There were all other tunes.

In every key. Playing all at once. And each needed a story to play to. But to hear the one small tune we found a part unconfused. In so finding we experience:

There is a war.

Silence and cacophony.

Scarcity, rather nothing at all against everything that could be. The only thing that gives them life is truth. The only thread that gives them sense is beauty. The only thing that satisfies is a tune put to rest.

To the past we see it clearer by...