He pierces my soul, with tenderness - a sublimation. I’m lost deep in the womb of my eternal birth where all emotions are laid bare, plumbed, a willing victim of healing rape.
Why? How does he do this? I can no longer distinguish the man from his music. I’ve listened to him for decades now and still he penetrates me like no other. Ah, perhaps one other – the solitude of an adagio.
But it’s neither slowness nor solitude in his music that overpowers me, for although there are periods of both, there are also movements of searing speed that tear after impossibly long sustained notes of ecstasy - permitting an unparalleled climactic release.
How does it do me? How am I done? If I only knew!
I find myself, once more, delivered to unknown places, spent like a woman made love to over and over again. Her lover, of angelic descent, it would seem - tender, powerful, knowing, impeccable with timing, fulfilling in every way and unforgettable.
But look for ‘him’, and he’s not there! It’s not that he’s left, it’s simply that he wasn’t ever there.
And I? I haven’t the faintest and for many, long years, it never mattered.
Why does it now?
Perhaps because the angel’s light has finally coaxed open my sleeping eyes and lifted me from my love-worn stupor. Perhaps I am now finally ready to rise into the light.
With love, devotion and surrender.