On Handel's "Messiah"

The first notes from the violins brought tears to the corners of my eyes,

and my breath caught when the orchestra joined.

My heart swelled with every note,

and when the chorus,

dear gods...the chorus...

rose to lift their voices to join,

it was as if the waves of their notes lifted my soul from my body,

to float on the ocean of their depth.

And then,

and then,

I heard it.

As impassioned and enthralled as I already was,

I heard the first notes of the organ,

its bass vibrating my heart just as it always had,

and I realized,

and I felt with no uncertainty

that although I may be questioning my faith and my belief in my gods,

I could not deny

the gift Santa Cecilia was bestowing upon us.

Wave after wave,

the stresses and strains of the mundane

released from my weary frame,

and I sat,

overcome,

wondering how the three wise men,

the three priests in their formal robes

could stand to sit so near to me,

hearing such beautiful melodies

about the savior they were learning to praise,

with eyes so somber and dry.

"Rejoice, rejoice,

rejoice greatly!"

and yet all around me

everyone sat in stillness

uncertain what to do.

Within a moment of the intermission's end,

the wave of it all overtook me again,

and although my body remained

straight-backed where it sat,

breathing from my diaphragm

as though I were wearing a black dress once again

and holding a leather-bound tome

in the palm of my hands

as precious as the Holy Bible itself,

my mind transported me.

Eyes closed, I fell to my knees

enveloped in a glowing gown of white,

tears streaming down my cheeks,

the music filling the palatial cathedral all around me.

"Hallelujah!"

pulled us all to our feet,

the energy no longer asking

but demanding we be moved.

and moved I was,

my face an ocean itself,

in the face of overwhelming beauty.

(Gods bless the singers who continued their strains,

as the children around them yelled:

"Yay!")