To the One who Knows


10308143_10152143957171723_6262214102116603135_nNothing quite like the music of Yanni to wash over you as clouds hang low and heavy over the horizon, the skies open up and rain lashes the swollen sea-the waves orchestrating a crescendo, the rocks broken yet stoic against their rapture.

In the ebb and flow of notes, you find that which has distilled from the strains and ruins of time, coaxed out of its slumber by the haunting music and the sound of the raindrops falling over it.

Whatever was broken feels healed; what was lost laps up to you once again; parts of you that were fragmented come together as the symphony sweeps over it all: the fragile longing, the unrequited love, the essence of your parents that courses and lives through you long after they’ve gone, a quiet hope that transcends everything.


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