The Music Inside          Most people go to their graves        with their music still in them.                   — BENJAMIN DISRAELI   No one wants to die with their music still silent. No — I want my very last note to ring like church bells on Easter, to fill my heart with love and forgiveness, to float in the air like smoke, weightless, final, true. Imagine: you’re on a bus, everyone sits tuneless, pretending silence, but you can hear their hearts, inner symphonies running wild to the rhythm of the world, heedless of their rough harmonies, overtones of life. We’re all on that bus, we’re all pleading our cases in a court made of bones where our souls are singing, filling the air with all we are, always and everywhere.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont March 2021