moonlit sonata

While the rest of the world sleeps, I found my guilty indulgence. Standing by the window with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and watching the trails of smoke from my dying cigarette. Never strange, never funny how classical music - the instrumentals - never fail to soothe frayed nerves and tired souls. I wonder what was going through Beethoven's mind when he composed this. By far, one of the most sanguine and yet hopeful pieces I've ever heard.

It makes me think of long walks along empty stretches of road with only the moon to guide me. It makes me think of the quiet breeze against my face and the feel of cool earth and grass beneath my feet. It makes me think of all the faces in the darkness; the sad sorrowful gazes and how they fade as I walk closer.

I think of the past and the foolishness. I think of the past and the happier moments. I think of a dim flickering light in the distance, a candle with my name.

Of fragmented memories of a childhood long gone, long past. Of children's laughter and a parent's lecture. Of schoolbells and missed classes, of hockey matches with victory that was never ours. Of disappointment and defeat, of every line scored on my arms and legs. Of the burning anguish and miscommunication.

And all of life passes me by. In this silent quiet night. And all of the things I could never be proud of, only dismayed.

Maybe I should go back to listening to happier songs. On the bright side, I found Casshern. That ought to make work later today far more bearable. Provided the editor vanishes from the office.