If music truly resounds in the very movement of the spheres, as dear Pythagorus mused, should it not also stir within the core of every life form of the universe? Restlessly it waits, starving yet resolved, for the mind which can transcend the gutteral tones of bark and bite, to listen and communicate a lost cellestial sound. The Prophet has turned Poet who forever sings his song. From David to Duritz, his essence has lived long. By the bravest of notes, the heart can be stirred, beyond all the stiches on eyes scarlet burned. So open your souls...and here the word.

We are influenced by the changing seasons, the chips in concrete roads, the way that sticky-fingered children tell the sweetest of lies, the sounds that haunt us from our pasts, the altruistic sinner, the good, the true, and the beautiful as it emerges unexpectedly from the darkest of worlds, and most of all from the life for which we have been chosen with all its tragic beauty and mysterious flaw.