“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
You hear me coming around the corner before you see me. My earphones fill my world with song, and I often raise my voice to join it. I want a life of joyful melodies worth singing loudly and unashamedly.
Will I always have courage to break the silence? I cannot waver when I sing for the voiceless, imploring others to join my refrain. I must hold a distracted, indifferent audience spellbound, convincing them that this song above all others deserves their attention.
Can I appreciate notes different from my own? Like many others, I prefer familiar keys. Yet I know true beauty springs forth from dissonance, giving songs new texture and depth. I need to encourage rather than silence divergent chords.
Who will sing beside me? I'll surround myself with a rich, cacophonous choir. The soprano giggles of children on Saturday mornings. The warm bass of my beautiful husband greeting me at the door. A counterpoint of chattering friends around the globe. Their loving harmonies will sustain and renew when my own weary voice falters.
How will my song end? With a gentle decrescendo, or a dramatic flourish? A well-worn reprise, or a surprise finale? All I know is that with my last breath, I'll still be joyfully singing along.
Will I always have courage to break the silence? I cannot waver when I sing for the voiceless, imploring others to join my refrain. I must hold a distracted, indifferent audience spellbound, convincing them that this song above all others deserves their attention.
Can I appreciate notes different from my own? Like many others, I prefer familiar keys. Yet I know true beauty springs forth from dissonance, giving songs new texture and depth. I need to encourage rather than silence divergent chords.
Who will sing beside me? I'll surround myself with a rich, cacophonous choir. The soprano giggles of children on Saturday mornings. The warm bass of my beautiful husband greeting me at the door. A counterpoint of chattering friends around the globe. Their loving harmonies will sustain and renew when my own weary voice falters.
How will my song end? With a gentle decrescendo, or a dramatic flourish? A well-worn reprise, or a surprise finale? All I know is that with my last breath, I'll still be joyfully singing along.
— Jevan Soo