Music with eyes and velvet wings,
from harmonic nests in exotic rainforests,
in the hub of exhilarating wonderlands,
of vibrant colors and honeyed breath,
with soothing talons and loving hearts,
music with an inner eye to choose a landing,
an ear to hear the softness of the sound,
the chosen one to admire the beauty,
to let it soak into every crevasse of the soul,
who can hear the voices of the music,
the language of the nine daughters of Zeus,
where she lives in the precious memory,
the heart of the beloved, the chosen one,
the one who can feel it touching the spine,
who can sense it running along the ridges,
who can hear the blossoms of the harmony
passing through the budding greens,
who can see them growing in the orchards
with an eye that can see dreams and spirits,
who can smell the aroma of sound
as it permeates the palate
and races to the heart,
the chosen one who stands
in awe of the silence,
the secret music of the chords
that sunk into the harmony
and kissed the blossoms of the sound,
the clatter to the insensitive one,
but the invigoration to the sensitive one,
the masseuse with the velvet hands,
the balm that heals every pore,
the wings that transport the enchanted,
the landing in the paradise
on the soft ground in the forest glen
as the music worked its magic,
that harmonic ecstasy that
found its way into the heart of the beloved.

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