There’s a Minor Chord playing, that suggests some kind of Longing, Aloneness.
There’s a Major Seventh that paints Expanses of Sky with Openness and Majesty, the Wanderings of Clouds, the Ease of Distance.
A Suspended Fourth opens the Sunrise with Possibility and Magic, sparkles of Friendly Firelight.
A Dominant Seventh suggests the Quirky Sass of Twelve-Bar Blues, inbued with its Sweet, Inherent Workingman’s Lament.
When all chords have stopped, you pause at the silent fireplace of Creation as its flames transform the Waves of Breath into the Vapor of Pure Consciousness. You arrive at the Still Point of Who You Are.
The Music of the Moment once again fills the empty space between the Words of Living.