Music comes from the piano
\none note at a time.
\nThe word spreads
\nsyllable by syllable.
\nBeauty is a tributary
\nof rivers.
\nThe coat is hung in the closet
\nday by day,
\nuntil it knows you
\nand becomes your skin.<\/p>\n
Lesson by lesson a student grows,
\na ballerina dances,
\na canny fisherman
\ncatches fish,
\nthe grace in an artist
\nfinds creation
\nin his failures,
\nand eyes that travel
\nfaster than light.<\/p>\n
Fill a canvas with color.
\nFingers give texture to dough,
\nthe voice that sings
\nfinds words,
\nthe door that is opened
\nlets night in,
\nthe baptism of rain,
\nthe sun with the day,
\nuntil the walls are cleansed.<\/p>\n
And the soul
\ncan enter the house of itself
\nwith the world inside,
\ngreater than ever imagined,
\nmolding the sand of childhood
\nagain and again,
\nuntil a castle remains,
\nand the tide circles it
\nwith light,
\nas one of its own.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Music comes from the piano one note at a time. The word spreads syllable by syllable. Beauty is a tributary of rivers. The coat is…<\/p>\n