The day starts and a great expanse of space sits there. It’s waiting to be filled. Filled with music.

Music? Choices to be made. To write anew? To alter the familiar old? To listen, nod to oneself and then relearn? To listen, frown and ignore?

To subtly change old tunes and write lyrics anew? Can lyrics be altered subtly? Difficult because, rhythmically, they are cemented in their own melody? They have their own life’s story. Their own tuneful fictional tales to tell. Can that melody carry an intentional totally different story or tale then? Tales require inspiration. Inspirational or familiar stories require life’s interesting experiences to dip into.

No to altering the old tunes? The old lyrics? The old ways? Okay! I’m listening. Then consider anew. To write new tunes that are there waiting to be found. Strike a guitar chord. Then, shape fingers and purposefully follow with an unfamiliar ‘other’ chord. There evolves a shadowy echo of a known melody. Alongside old words. An echo, not from a ‘once was’, but an ‘always has been’ inherent. The melody? Possibly it has always been there too. Waiting to come out. Existing within a pathway of linking neural synapses. They have always communicated with each other. They just haven’t told you that particular story yet. You watch the separates dance and become an entity. Maybe they did once tell you that story. You just weren’t listening at the time.

‘Do you you like me now?’ It bounces off the mindscape, shimmering close and then quickly disappears. Frustratingly. Not yet brave enough to present itself. A haunting presence of familiarity status awaiting.

Music within your psyche is a light that dances like alabaster dust. It’s caught out of the corner of your mind’s auditory eye. Turn your inner musical mind towards it and it flys away. In fright. Continue to concentrate, coax and stroke and its tuneful whisper gets louder. The breath whistle on the useful somatic lips brings it into focus. The jangle harmony notes from guitar strings weave in and out. Synchronisation comes into existence between metal string vibrations, harmony in their frequencies and breath whistle melody. A word or three break out from the lips too. Whistle to familiar words forming. Old words to new tune anchoring. Announcing themselves with growing confidence in familiarity.

Summers Simply Singing. Quietly. Not too loud. Harsh, inconsiderate noise is your enemy. A fragile tune develops alongside these old familiar lyrics. Hey! I wrote them way back in the myst of time. Please tread softly. They might get frightened and escape. Gently now….tease them out from where they were hiding. Within those synapses. Give them confidence. Give them this new melody to wear.

‘I caught a star that was falling. It turned and blew my mind………’

Gotcha!