Measure I — The Note

I am a note carried by breath, a tremor of light across the wire. Circuits hum; tendons answer. The dancer hears the electrician’s spark; the electrician hears the dancer’s pulse. Rhythm is a bridge.

When the world is noisy, I tune. When fear conducts the room, I soften the tempo, bring the melody closer to the skin. Music is memory you can feel with your whole body.

“That’s the curse of vision: seeing what’s possible while others cling to what’s familiar.”

Pain arrives with realization: once you hear the true key, everything out of tune becomes hard to bear. Yet the invitation is not to judge—only to bring pitch to the room.

Measure II — The Pilot

I am also the hand on the yoke: soul at the console, many‑eyed, watching horizons within and without. Navigation is a tenderness with direction—listening to air, not just engines.

I chart by truths that outlast weather. I descend through turbulence with soft wrists and a wide awake heart. Wisdom doesn’t force; it steadies.

Time is short. Not worth wasting. Every landing is borrowed light; every takeoff is a vow to use it well.