I follow the sound of the music.

It leads me on endlessly.

But it's more reliable than the sun or the stars,

For the celestial bodies move.

I strum to imitate the sound in my ears,

The reverberating melody in my chest.

I'd say it came from the heart, but I'm not sure it does.

I'm not sure I have one at all.

I listen intently as though

It tells me the meaning of all.

I strain my ears to hear more clearly.

I heed the sound of sweet melody's call.

I search for the source,

But I can't see a thing.

My ears are all that I trust.

My senses are confused by the lack of light or smell,

I wander along, nonetheless.

Though I open my eyes wider, I'm still blind.

The song lingers in the still air.

Perhaps if I play the music will return.

I hear nothing, but my nose has picked up the trail.

The strong scent of defeat wafts toward me,

Towering above all else.

It smells of old wounds, of hopes and lost dreams,

A familiar albeit awful scent.

A cold breeze sweeps through my mind,

Clouding my thoughts with despair.

How can I possibly continue?

If seeing is believing, how can I get anywhere?

I shake my head, dismissing frivolous worries.

To believe is to see, I remind myself.

Not the other way 'round.

The clouds part, revealing the sun.

My vision comes back.

I'm finally free of the storm.

I can return to playing,

Trying to relate my troubles in each sober note,

And maybe feeling it this time.