Out of the chaos, out of the clanging, out of the cacophony, could you, Lord, pull out the melody? Right it? Turn the ugliness into dissonance that resolves? Make something beautiful?
I've not taken enough theory, haven't enough of an ear, to get anywhere with this endeavor.
My fingers as awkward as Liam's, too big, too stiff. I'm like him unable to read the music, translate it to the keys without pushing notes I'd not intended to, sliding off the ones I wanted.
Sometimes I guide his hands.
Would you guide mine?
Sometimes I play with him.
Will you play along with me?
What's that you say? You're interceding, working, more than I can comprehend. Master composer, master musician, master conductor, master instrumentalist, direct and play me.
Something harmonious.
Something pleasing.
A new song.