Its reaching strands

Its probing tendrils

Weaving delicately in and out of my ribs,

Liquid and flowing,

It invades me gently

Soothes me softly.

Whispering to me

Sweet somethings in my ear.

Caressing me, it will protect me.

Its inviting, widespread arms

Into which I fall so readily,

Its subtle fingers

Flitting into my chest

Ensnaring my heart in their iron grip.

Squeezing the essences of sorrow from my core.

And then it's over.

The clutches, suddenly mere fiction.

The journey ends.

The next set of tender arms open,

And I continue

My endless falling,

Into the depths

Of music.