Let It Tell You

It begins in the fingers.
You see they move like cellos,
Soft and low,
Understated.
But always ready to come in sharp and loud when they’re needed.

Take a second…
A moment…
Listen…
Don’t be afraid.
You are the living soundtrack to the universe
And there are so many notes you are yet to play.

Your hands have violin strings woven into the lines of their palms
And they play such beautiful symphonies,
I wonder if you can hear them when you pray.

Your body is an orchestra filling the world with such sweet music,
Let it play in your ears,
Let it vibrate the very soul you live in,
Let it touch the limits of your imagination and then let it leap over the edge and tell you what it looks like from beyond.
Let it bring back strange flowers and stories of golden giants made of smiles and hugging strangers
And let it tell you about the monsters and terrors that those golden giants fight with almost every day.
Let it tell you how some mornings those giants crumble,
And are rebuilt broken and imperfect,
Their gold shimmering and faded,
Their music misshapen and tuneless,
Searching for the light they used to so easily give away,
And how some mornings they never move forward for fear of falling apart at the cracks,
Filled past their brim and drowning,
Like so many broken things.
Then let it tell you,
How those golden giants will pick each other up,
How they will break off pieces of themselves to fill the gaps of others,
How all the imperfections they fill with stars and silver linings and how they tell one another in their every movement
Today you are beautiful.
Today you are beautiful and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop it.
You are a body made of melodies and supernovas.
The soundtrack to the universe.

Your body is an orchestra,
Your heart a drum, your feet pianos, lungs trumpets, lips guitars, chest bass, your throat a trombone,
Your eyes are two singers, in perfect harmony
And there’s no story they can’t tell
No song they can’t sing
No memory they can hide
And tonight they are singing loudly and it is beautiful.
Tonight your voice carries the rhythms of oboes and laughter
And when the demons come,
When they cut at your harp strings
Make your melodies strained and broken
Remember you are an orchestra of memory,
A golden giant,
An angel carved through a word,
You make the universe shine by the very existence of all that is inside of you
And on the days when you shake too much
And you drown in the silence
Just remember
There are those ready to lend their sound to yours
Singing loudly
Today you are beautiful and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop it.

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