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Senior Correspondent

Music makes maps for meditation.
So every night I slip into my headphones
And glide off across the meandering paths
Of space and time.

It is not like piloting a speedboat,
Though no eddy of the universe
Is beyond reach. Still,
Even a currach lends greater control.

On these nightly voyages,
You close your eyes, open your heart,
And shove off, letting the music lead.

Such musically augmented meditation 
Means surfing on someone else's Harmony.
They created it, you are just borrowing
Some of the better bits.

Through the lens of note and lyric
You glimpse again the stuff of memory.
Precious places and people take your hand,
And then are gone again.
Your deepest hopes, and hidden fears
Are revealed in a stranger's words.

And then you are saved by a symphony
Or some new age noodling, 
Music's answer to doodling,
Sound that is somehow quieter
Than silence.

You slip down an arpeggio,
Sheltered by a minor chord,
Momentarily confused by a
Rush of rain, inserted no doubt
By some Moog accolite.

And then quietly, without you 
Really being aware of it,
You are someplace quite calm,
Quite peaceful, and the music
That you brought along, gives way
To the Harmony within.

And there you are,
Finally flirting with transcendence.

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