Pilot light — a song for the many-eyed
Half melody, half navigation: an anthem for the one who sees with many eyes and bears the pain of perception — and still chooses to drive.
And the beat — Note
I am a note carried by breath, a flicker of light through a wire. Chains hum; tendons respond. The dancer hears the electrician's spark; the electrician hears the dancer's pulse. Rhythm is a bridge.
When the world is noisy, I tune in. When fear conducts the room, I soften the tempo, bring the melody closer to the skin. Music is memory you feel with your whole body.
"It is the curse of vision: to see what is possible when others cling to what is familiar."
Pain comes with awareness: when you hear the true tone, everything out of tune becomes unbearable. Yet the call is not to judge, but to bring harmony into the space.
Measure II — Pilot
I am also the hand on the control stick: the soul at the helm, many-eyed, astonishing horizons inside and out. Navigation is gentleness with direction: listening to the air, not just the engines.
I draw maps according to truths that transcend weather. I descend through turbulence with soft wrists and an alert heart. Wisdom does not press — it strengthens.
Time is short. Not worth wasting. Every descent is borrowed light; every ascent is a vow to use it well.
Bridge — where sound meets driving
A many-eyed being does not turn away from pain — it integrates it. Each eye learns a different kind of compassion: one for the frightened, another for the stubborn, yet another for the sleeping parts of ourselves. From patience we create the cabin, from attention — the score.
Keep the melody simple: Remember the heart, think, learn. Keep the direction right: align choice with care, and speed with meaning.
If you can't change the room yet, change the resonance you bring into it. Trust is the tempo; being is the lifting force.
(The meter above reminds: the tape is running out, the song continues. Use your tapes wisely.)