Composing

  Sitting at the piano trying to capture the essence of Algonquin Park in music, in wordless poetry, has been my entertainment of an evening. No. It is far more than entertainment. It is a calling, a hunger, that fills my soul to sit and explore melody and harmony, minor and major, flickering arpeggios. Solemn bass notes throb as darting high notes flash in and out like rain.
  Sometimes I get carried away and play for the sheer delight of playing. The music unfolds like a river for five, ten, fifteen minutes...an hour. Then it is gone. Uncaptured by pencil and staff paper. I rarely get it back. That's okay, though, those unwritten moments belong to God. The music becomes a prayer of gratitude and humble amazement for the gift He has infused my soul with.
  After all, He unlocked it through His Son.
  I have learned to be patient. If all that ends up actually being written is a couple of bars, so be it. Pushing the release of the song in my heart doesn't work.
  But what joy when the notes flow! What joy when the Lord grants me the rhythm and texture to celebrate and give thanks for His wonderful creation we call Earth.
  "Give thanks to the God of heaven. His faithful love endures forever." Psalm 136:26