“Read as little as possible of aesthetic criticism - such things are either partisan views, petrified and grown senseless in their lifeless induration, or they are clever quibblings in which today one view wins and tomorrow the opposite. Works of art are of an infinite loneliness and with nothing so little to be reached as with criticism.”—Rariner Maria Rilke / Letters To A Young Poet (via tylerjamesmusic)
I think that maybe my heart uses your heartbeat as a metronome to stay on track. Yours balances mine, slows it, teaches it to beat strong and steady and with purpose and rhythm. When faced with the unfortunate but often unavoidable situation where it cannot hear yours, it forgets, simply forgets all it was taught. Like a piano student whose teacher skipped the recital. It aches for your sound to match. It stings for the audience of your lungs to hear it beat. Hear it sing. Hear it play.