A couple of days ago, I was desperately awaiting my moment of freedom from my poetry class. I'm rather picky about that class. There are days I like it, but then days that I feel like I could accomplish better things. Anyways, I'm backing away from my main point.
Once I left the room we met in, I wasn't in the mood to head back to the apartment immediately. I wasn't even hungry for supper. It was like an electrical shock went down my spine and I was eager to have an adventure. I just wanted to run around the old building I was in, spy out secret rooms, secret passage ways, and see if I was daring enough to sneak into any of them. I went to the basement mainly, because in our one campus building, that floor seems particularly suspicious. I walked around quietly, like I was hunting for wildlife in a forest. I could hear voices, but I desperately hoped they wouldn't hear my footsteps. I found two locked doors, clearly with no one on the other side (or so I hoped). I found one door that I wanted to find a way to get into. It looked very interesting and I spent some considerable time staring at the key code on the door. Perhaps I was turning on the Sherlock Holmes part of my mind in seeing how faded the buttons were, which ones had the most scratches on them, and at what angle they were going in.
Did I figure out the code to get in? I'm sorry that I must say that I didn't attempt a break-in. I gave up that quest, thinking that it would be more fun if I had a sidekick there with me, to watch if the coast was clear. Need I say, where was my Dr. Watson?
I am getting distracted again, though, so let me keep the story going. I decided that my adventures could be put aside for the time being. I had to get something to eat, or else I would have a very upset stomache. I crept up to the doors at the end of the hallway, and jogged up the set of stairs that would lead me to a back door leading outside.
But I stopped. I couldn't move. I heard something coming from above me. It sounded haunting, but beautiful at the same time. There was a choir singing in the chapel on the second floor. I felt glued to the spot as I listened to their voices echo down the stairs, their voices needing no musical instrument to blend their harmonies together. Looking out a window, the world began to look very bleak, like it was a simple factor in a larger number. There were people walking around outside, laughing and chatting away, but I couldn't hear them. All I saw were mute mouths speaking about absolutely nothing.
It was a sad moment when the songs ended, and there was no more joy to be felt. But was it joy that I felt? No. If anything, I would of guessed it to be some sort of longing. What was holding me there? Did I expect the music to stay, because the sad truth is that it never does. Music only lasts as long as one can breathe, but if you lose breath, how can you keep going? The instruments die down when fingers are cramped, and knuckles are locked.
I'm not one for religion. It sucks the beauty from your lungs and keeps you hanging on rules that you'll never be able to keep right. But I swear, for that one moment that the choir sang, I understood God. He was scary, but lovely. He was a soldier, but majestic. He was harsh, but caring. He was just, but holy.
Yet it all passed. I was left to wonder if any of it was real. I picked up my bags, and threw the door open. And I guess I'll never know why my heart felt sky-high in that moment. I had no choice, but to leave it behind me. One cannot linger always on things that are lovely. Neither can they linger on what hurts.
But what if when I stood there alone, I felt both?
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