Music of the Spheres

She pulled me up, from that deep keep

Out of dark, warm, blessed sleep.

When from the bathroom to the bed

She returned having heard strange music in her head.

So up from warm rest I jumped

to check the house while my heart pumped

to find the source of her music odd

but I found no source for her ballade.

So back to bed, I returned, only to be from sleep, spurned.

In the quiet my ears did strain, hoping to catch

An odd, quiet, refrain

But only silence I did hear and nothing that could lead to fear.

I hoped to assuage her fears and told her it was the music of the spheres.

But sleep eluded me that night, as with convoluted thoughts I did fight,

of music, spheres, and midnight fears.

In my head, I did see, spheres of gold, silver blue and red with paths between, bright, made of purest, whitest light

Each a memory, thought, feeling or care, a part of me, embedded there.

And as each sphere was found, pure sounds like music did resound

And each was different, like bells, like chimes, like steel drums, together making a vibrant thrum.

So in the night odd music I did hear, but it was only the music of my spheres.