The Magic Box

I have a magic box. It is made of wood and strung with string. It was made by an old man in the hills above Barcelona. There’s music in there; all the music of the ages. Last night I was able to call it forth.

At times such as that I just hold it and stroke the strings gently; the music comes out, aided only slightly by my fingers. I know the magic is in there always but most times I’m afraid; afraid that my clumsy attempts will only cause it to hide deeper within the wood and strings.

But late last night, in a moment of quiet solitude, I surrendered. I forgot myself and my inadequacies and was able to conjure up the right spell to bring the music out and it came and enveloped me. My body and mind felt renewed and refreshed.

I slept better because of it.

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