We are consciousness playing a game with itself to see how it feels.
When __ere Comes the Sun_ started, what happened? No, the sun didn__ come out, but Mom opened up like the sun breaking through the clouds. You know how in the first few notes of that song, there__ something about George__ guitar that__ just so hopeful? It was like when Mom sang, she was full of hope, too. She even got the irregular clapping right during the guitar solo. When the song was over, she paused it.__h, Bee,_ she said. __his song reminds me of you._ She had tears in her eyes.
Where'd You Go, Bernadette
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When __ere Comes the Sun_ started, what happened? No, the sun didn__ come out, but Mom opened up like the sun breaking through the clouds. You know how in the first few notes of that song, there__ something about George__ guitar that__ just so hopeful? It was like when Mom sang, she was full of hope, too. She even got the irregular clapping right during the guitar solo. When the song was over, she paused it.__h, Bee,_ she said. __his song reminds me of you._ She had tears in her eyes.
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You are the moon that breaks the night . You are the fear that I hate to fight. Times are wrong in all that is done. My treasure is love that I give to only one. Cherrish the treasures given to your heart and never let anything hurt from the start. You chose your path so accept and believe, that peace love and light are needed to breathe.
With my guitar, I could write my own stories, my own poems, and my own destiny. No one could take away the feelings, the emotions or the truth of my notes. They could hide secrets and provoke images of words that never should be whispered. I could compose the melody of my aching heart and write into it my own happily ever after since no one seemed to think after all my suffering I deserved one. That's okay, I would make my own.
I want to wake up every day I have left to the warmth of your lips on mine, the sound of your voice singing next to me, the feel of your fingers on my skin and your heart beating music with mine.
Here, also, the future was cried aloud by the wind through the rocks, so that all those who heard would shiver, and then the liquid spring song of the thrush would make all the beauty of moonlight and sunlight blend together, making it true, so true, that happiness must come again
If life throws you a few bad notes or vibrations, don't let them interrupt or alter your song.