Rybird Rybird


The Bird is the Word

Why? With varying shades of hope and peace, pain and inspiration, joy and anguish, everything coalesces into a shapeless storm, producing the need to calm my internal being which yearns to weep for the angels. Radiating a beacon into the unknown, it never returns as it was originally broadcast. Transmitting from a need to know and be known, to sense the meaning in it all, I am provoked to quench my devising confusion. Immediate feedback occurs during this rendering, while managing control over it's original configuration, I carefully arrange it, attempting to assign a meaning to it. I broadcast extraneously, listening, observing clues, in the subtle alterations of the feedback. Deciphering this relevance, I eagerly return the oscillations into the continuum. This signal, the message, the feelings, desire and uncertainties, the process entwined with the feedback and interpretations, fan my inner flames. I become a channel for something I experience but do not understand, something that caressingly taunts me, a high spirit formed of imagination mated with reality. There is only one word to describe this amalgamation of which the only direct physical evidences are vibrations. The remainder of which nurtures the inexhaustible boundless passion. This word is music. And music is my answer. Rybird