How strange it feels to live again, free again, out from the dirt and darkness of the grave. How strange and eerie is the sun. I guess I’m not part of this anymore, not really, the struggle, the desire.
The music, though, I still feel that, perhaps more than when I was alive. Music, it is the soul, and my soul is in me again more burning and alive than before. I am glad I am alive again.
I talked with a child today. Someone’s child. I don’t know. Just came up and started talking with me. Life is good.
That child was alive with something, something I never had before, something I feel akin with now, a resonance. I wonder if I ever was alive before I died. Maybe we have to die to know what life is.
That’s why, I think, you, all of you, are such wicked creatures. You’re not dead, and so more dead than anything else. You won’t find the child; I have seen to that. And, even if it means going back to the grave where I will never again hear Bach, I will fight you. I do not fear death anymore. I have talked with the child, and I know that I am alive.
Tale Told 