Anticipation, In Between and Sustained

Before an instrument is played, there is a moment of anticipation. When a hush comes over the room and the breathing begins to still, an inflection point of near silent harmony arises. And then the note comes forth and slowly an exhale slips through the atmosphere. It can be glorious.

For some the wait is prolonged and the note seems to never arise into the living breathing world of sight and sound. It tarries, held back in that place where origins are origins and endings don't exist. Stopped from processions and willed to refrain, the notes uninformed yet knowing they are a real something, a creation as a vapor eager to join the chorus of all creatures here below.

The in between can be the hardest, though. The in between can lull and rock and disappoint and shock. The in between can turn away or draw one in to contemplative meditation. There is that better place if rest is required before the thing comes. In between can be the calm before the storm.

And once it occurs we might be shaken to attention or soothed with relief. What comes to one may not come to another. Yet if there is a sustain, a prolonging that awaits that rocks one to the very core, it might well be a note held too long. The unrelenting of the force that awakens where bracing does one no good may well be less bearable than the in between or the anticipation thought sweeter than anything yet found.

Can one even exist in the prolonged state of any event? In any event to speculate is lost in all three states. It's where speculation lives. Always darting to and fro, look where speculation goes. On swift a gale where fondness swells to satisfy the wayward world, to crucify, and sacrifice and give away only to die. To find the rest when all has ceased. Begin again there is no peace.