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Sacred Serenade

In melodies, I seek the face of God,  

A whispered note in every chord and tone,  

The rhythm pulses like His sacred nod,  

A heartbeat echo severally ancient and alone.  


The waves of sound cradle my belief,  

In crescendos, I sense His gentle might,  

Each tempo is like a balm to deepest grief,  

A fleeting brush of His eternal light.  


The instruments sing of something more,  

A resonance that words can scarcely claim,  

The pitch ascends as if to heaven's door,  

Where echoes whisper softly of His name.  


In harmonies I feel the Spirit near,  

A breath within the silence of the song,  

The synthesis of my doubt and fear,  

In music's arms where all my hopes belong.  


For in this dance of sound and soul I find,  

A glimpse of God if He indeed exists,  

A feeling deep within my heart and mind,  

Where holy presence in each note persists.  


And so I pray, through every verse and rhyme,  

That in this symphony, His love I trace,  

A fleeting touch of something so divine,  

The holy music of His boundless grace.

-Aubs

August 22, 2024


In "Sacred Serenade," I immerse myself in the search for a divine presence through the delicate strains of music. Each melody and rhythm feels like a whisper from God, if He exists. I hope that within the pulse of every chord and tone, there lies a sacred nod—a sign of something greater amidst the echo of my solitary yearning.


Music, to me, becomes a refuge where belief is cradled by its waves. The crescendos and harmonies serve as a balm to my deepest sorrows, offering a fleeting brush with what I hope is divine light. The instruments sing of a resonance that words alone cannot capture, each pitch ascending as if it were a passage to heaven’s door, where I imagine God’s name might be softly spoken in the echoes.


In the silence between the notes, I feel a presence that I can only hope is the Spirit, merging my doubts and hopes into a soothing embrace. As I navigate this dance of sound, I search for a glimpse of God’s existence, feeling that in each verse and rhyme, I might trace a touch of something transcendent. It’s a fragile hope that in the music’s boundless grace, I find a hint of this being that is highly praised as divine.

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