By: Atty. Augusto Costa Zabaleta
The Eternal opened his heart, shook his hand and took the universe as a harp, marked time by snapping his fingers and you were born; you were born from everything, not from nothing; the first sound pleased his ears and, surprised he smiled; in a dance he created the opera of the cosmos, gave it planets and spaces, stars and holes; His joy was such that he made the earth and its beings; he thought of the croaking of the toad, the whistling of the birds, the creaking of the mountains and the whisper of the owl.
Muse of the giant, voice of the cosmos, sword of the son that appeases the spirit and widens it beyond the Kronos, penetrates the veins and separates the darkness, your notes are thunder that destroy the thorns of oblivion, the do and the yes, that fill the void, the me and the sun, that give you meaning, the re and the fa, that give it hard and thick, slow and without pause; they give cadence and moisten the senses.
Wild sound, fierce roar; everything is created and destroyed with nuances and flavors orchestrated by the soul; blessed wind that tears you between the instruments and distributes your harmony to the fallen and the lost; don’t stop, it sounds louder and louder, it sounds further and further away, whether it’s a piano or an oboe, Mozart’s chords or Callas’s voice, Barber’s pain or Wagner’s anger.
Thank you, thank you for the counterpoint and the waltz, for rock and metal, for the naked voice of a vowel.
Blessed are you because my heart exists to seek you, my ears to admire you, my soul to miss you and my mind to create you, blessed are you, more blessed than the earth and its seas; you have ripped me howls and delusions, smiles and faces, doubts and presences, madness and calm, pleasures and sunrises, without your knowing I have given you everything; I could sing to you today and always, I will take you to battle and to my wedding; At my funeral we will take root in the eternal.
We will break the stillness, and even not everything that is broken makes noise, I think of adagios, rhapsodies, staccato and silences; even if the singer goes out of tune and the saxophone loses the note, there goes the music.
Everything has music; How much melody is there in a hug and a goodbye, in an “I love you” and an “I hate you”, in a moan and an orgasm?; we are music, the greatest symphony ever composed; Without her, the moon would only be a white sphere, love would be an empty word, pain would be a torture tool, caresses would rub without meaning, the wait would be a nuisance, the butterflies in the stomach would be vomited and only my entrails would remain, the bars would be empty, there would be no applause for the tenor, and laughter would only be a grimace.
What a horror!, what a horror to think of your absence; without the music of the soul it would not be worth living together.
Atty. Augusto Costa Zabaleta
Ced. #: 1100310455
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