a simple strum of the heartstrings would reveal symphonies heard only momentary lapses in slumber.

and

as simply as he had slipped in...he was out.

to each their own, a rhythm.

my streetlight had gone out long ago, but in distance first steps trudged on, but willingly.

the child cries,

and

somewhere

a woman sings.

and to them, it is the most beautiful sound they have ever heard.

and somewhere

someone dies.

but with peace. solidtude. gratitude.

and in loving, they realize that much more. and dear, no infinite amount of underlying can emphasize that enough.