When the world gets hard, the music of my heart guides me to you.

21/07/2014

(Leaving the Edgecliff Bus Depot.)

I assert my place in the queue and so I'm seated. A handsome young  man passes close by. 

Mean while, a kid has lost his bag on a previous bus and the driver helps him.

 The moments tick by; just beneath her breath, the woman beside me vents irritation. 

I close my eyes. 

The pleasant voices, in foreign cadences, of a young couple seep into me from somewhere far away. 

Someone is wearing a Eucalyptus scent.

Schoolgirls share a recipe for deep fried Mars Bars; the ratbags.

 ...and I am alive. (Only a little fried, despite it all.)

At this moment I am living.

 There will be innumerable moments when I am not alive, but in these few moments: I am. 

I open my eyes. 

The driver gives the school boy a number for lost property. The bus starts and pulls out of the cement and metal structure. 

When the world gets mad, the music of my heart guides me to you.

 Before we enter the tunnel that leads to New south Head Road, I realise those remembered moments have passed for always.

 A year later, with my lover in the next room, I edit the poorly written prose. I am just looking for words to accompany pictures. 

Words reawaken  moments.

My path has led to you. 

The oncoming and inevitable  freight train of death has been quietened by your presence. Your quiet ease.

When the world gets difficult, the music of my heart guides me to you...