Thursday, March 31, 2011

Art Lesson

draw. . .

the line of birds
              across the azure canopy,
the tender flow
         of a child's jaw,
the length of the pathway
          from the shadow to the light,
the colors of yesterday
        when the sun
                  closed his eyes,
the curve of a graceful dancer's 
          extended arm,
the branches of the pine
       scraping the clouds,
the stream of tears
      glowing on your face,
the flow of a brook       
        along the ground,
the melody arcing
                           out of a softly played guitar,
the edges of the foam
                    on the sandy shore,
the hair on your head
                               as the breeze moves through,
the smile on the face
         of a peaceful dreamer,             
the fresh edge
      of a newly formed rose,
the thread of connection
      between you and I,
the flames of love
        in your eyes. . .

draw. . .

   the blank page of
and all the 
yet to be . . .

I missed my bus this morning so I picked a word (draw)
and wrote a poem about it
to pass the time . . ..
maybe I like this one and will work on it
a bit more
maybe not .  .   . but I like it . . .
While editing the poem and setting it here in the blog I listened to this album . . . a raw and tender guitar play with a few atmospheric sounds added . ..  lovely and peaceful.

The Journey Home
by Roy Merriam
Tender Peacefulness

A lovely album
full of birdsong
and wind chime
with heartfelt
guitar melodies . . .
tender strumming which brings
a peacefulness which descends
into the listener's atmosphere
as if the rays of the golden sun
were charming all the heart-ache
away . ..

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Dance with My Lover

Paris 2010

Human Angel's Club
by Human

As the listener sat rapt . .
                                          she felt
An explosion of love which
flew in with the wings                                     
               of a divine angel,
visiting from an exotic
                                                  and distant land,
                      and as this seraphic being
hovered over the her                         
                                        with the rush of fragrant wind
betraying its presence,                                              
                           the celestial music, so uplifting,
increased the heart-strength of this listener . . .                    
and created a passionate longing 
to dance
                                                       with her adored one
held tightly in her arms  . .

                                     Hold me tightly . . . sweet love,
for I fear the angel's power                                  
to lift me away . . . far away
from you . . .
                                                           Together . . . we shall dance,
forever, in each others arms . . .                    
                                                                     and though there may be glory
somewhere else,
all I want in this existence                                      
is to dance with you . . .
so close
so very close,
                                  and to dream with you
                                                                   into the exaltation of eternity . . 


Music that Moved Me . . .

Late last summer . . .

Signs From Other Worlds
by Jakim


the sound is to die
a trip to
the end . . .
perfection . . .
swept away
to the stars
beneath the sea . .
beyond the sky

I cried
as I dreamed . .

Faster Bicycle
by Nelson Jenstad

The wind blows through
the soul
as we fly down the hill,
jackets flapping behind
like silver wings
about to take off . . .
destination be damned . . .
the space between
beginning and end
is the thing . . .
and those who don't or can't. . .
the smile on our visage
and our bared
beating hearts . . .

And the music is pretty cool too . . .
feel those wheels turning. . .
feel the road beneath your seat. . .
and know that its purely your power
that makes you fly . . .

remember when you were knee high . .
and you rode your first bike . .
with exhilaration ..
and a huge smile . . . on your face . . .
you felt connected
to the world at large . . .
and you never wanted
that to end . . .

this music takes you there
to those beautiful times . . .
beautiful music
beautiful memories

a bit of life . . . reviewed

Final Day Return 2K11
by starmann65

trance with the man from the stars

Hey starmann . . . you fly me
to the sky

its a good song
that gave me a smile

you took me places
I haven't been
in a while . . .

Return to Midgard (Demo2011)
by Rune 
In the end the wolf sang. . .

I wish it were longer . . .
the voyage
the adventure . . .
it took me places . . . I wanted to see. . .
it gave me a reason
for being . . .
and gave me love
and peace . . .
and in the end
the wolf sang
a melody
woven . . .
between each beating
throb of my heart . . .

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Diversion /// Time for Games

This is a quick little stop to share one of my favorite game sites. All these visually beautiful games were created in flash by Ferry Halim .. .. a very nice guy who lives with his family in California . .. . and maintains this site for your pleasure . . . and his . . . ENJOY!

Monday, March 28, 2011

The Gift of Childhood . . .

Its funny . . . how our childhood expresses itself throughout our lives. . .

I am writing this before I listen to the album of one of my favorite musicians on Jamendo.  I am reading the story he tells . . . the story about himself as a boy doing the shopping for the family. . .  as he passes by his friends, playing soccer, he is a little embarrassed by his circumstances . ..  yet his heart is full of melody which comforts him. As he walks, today, through the dusty roads of his memories, he is awed by the idea that today his music is published on the Internet, and somehow this pays backward for the young boy . . walking with that basket full of yesterday's dinner.  

These stories of childhood move me . . . as I work with children. I can look back over my troubled life and be amazed that I am where I am today . . . and I see potential in all children and I wonder . . . children express themselves verbally in such flat ways . . . never delving into the deeper meanings of the things that happen to them through the words they speak.

. . . but give a child a tool to share their art . . . crayons, the ability to write, create music or sculpt . . . and you will find that they are as capable as adults to express the depths of their souls . . . their dreams and their hurts and joys . ..

Life is amazing! 

These two albums were created by grown adults . ..  remembering their childhoods as if they happened only yesterday . . .

First I want to share an album, full of summer light. I have already written a review for this album, as orangeupurple, . . . a music written by CŒDES Pierre-Marie called: "Scattered Memories 2" about his childhood summers . . .
His story touched me so I will give the link straight to his page so you can read that:

You painted an Awesome picture of your summertimes
OH . . . Pierre-Marie . . you are a boy after my own heart . . you did the things I did and felt exactly the way I felt during those golden warm days of childhood summer. I enjoyed reading your text and felt that having the album was only part of the joy, this time, as you tell a poetically vivid tale of those wonderful days . .. and I felt so close to you . . . maybe we grew up together . . . I think it was you and I feeding those pregnant mares in that field of golden grasses??? . . . ;-D

Then I listened to your creative music . . . how you paint with sound . . . and how you give it that glowing warm, sparkling quality .. .. how? You are gifted! You move us through those richly layered stories and you tell them with your emotionally vibrant and dynamic music. And I see before me, giant canvases with developing story lines flowing across the landscapes of your memories . . . green hills, trees, colorful people, animals and that bright golden sun . . . and there is the beautiful night time, curved around the edges, because of the brilliant stars and Grandpa adding to the whole painting with such style and strength . . .

Each of your pieces struck me with its unique methods of conveying your feelings and images. I loved your use of drums throughout and especially in "Playing Knights in the wood." You used such exquisite sounds, like the chimes, to depict such visuals as the "Stars at the tip of Grandpa's Finger" which was so heart touching a title . . .And the strings in that piece were especially beautiful. The flute dancing through "Puffy Clouds over Grandpa and Children in Golden Fields" was perfect and the drums again drawing on strength to create a wholeness, rounding out the picture for the listener to enjoy.

"Comes September" was a little dark and slow . .. as I imagined that young boy in his new school clothes, and with a sad look on his little face saying goodbye to Grandpa and the crisp dry grasses of summer as he trudged off to school. As he took a few last deep breaths of the dusty summer air he felt a slight coolness in the breeze as a last tired butterfly fluttered so close as to brush his cheek with its wing and he stood very still for a moment on his road and remembered all the goodness of the summer past .. .. and knew that it would come around again . . .

I love these types of albums . .. creating a sense of unity with other human beings, the listeners, as we all can relate to the story teller . . . yes . . this is like listening to a story as we sit around the fire . . . a beautiful story told through music and words . .. and like children we listen in awe . . . "You mean . . you did those things too?" I wanted to know you, that little boy in the streams, and fields and woods during those summers not too long ago . . . because your experiences resonated so strongly with me and your music moved me quite profoundly. . .

- M^^W -


The next album is published today and while reading the text and lyrics and listening to the songs, I find this music most poignant and melancholic in regards to the experiences with which children are exposed.

This album is full of the colors of childhood . . . 
the drama and the heartache . ..  
a message from tiny hearts that overflow with love,
and the desire to be loved . . . to be noticed and cared for . . .
more than anything a desire to be nurtured and accepted
for themselves . . .
Many of these songs resonated with my own truths and  experiences
. . . but while the adult can look up and remember hope
a child is full of . . . hope 
and expectations of bigger and better things . . . 
and always the heart of a child responds so well to
finding that one adult open to their needs . . .
an adult who has experienced the life of a child . . .

I'll tell you that "Little Hero's Dream" made me cry .  .  . there was a moment in the melody that crept into my heart like that lost, little child . . . dreaming the impossible . . . of becoming a hero . . . . . . saving a world, being strong and capable . .. that was my favorite daydream . . .the song resonated with me . . . reverberating through my lost soul's story . . .

Of course all the songs were precious and all the contributors did so expertly and with astonishing expression and creativity . . . Beautifully done . . . The lyrics are poems which deserve to be read . ..  so here, again, I will provide a link to the page of the album. To read the lyrics click on the track name and the lyric page will magically appear . . . enjoy, as I have, reading all these lovely, sweetly sad poems . . .



Piano . . . today and forever . . .

PIANO - Some of the most beautiful piano music, in the world, is shared on Jamendo . . . inspiring, graceful, astonishing, gorgeous compositions . . . stage worthy and celestial. Peaceful tranquility will follow your listening as you absorb the music created by these gifted and talented artists.  Many of these musicians have already been exposed on this blog . . . and will continue to harmonize with my soul for a long time . . . but today I want to share a few more . .

I am looking for piano music today, but this also includes some of the other keyboarding compositions that fall into the genre of piano/ambient . . .

Some I feel inspired to write a poetic response which is included at the end of the album, or a short review . . .

The piano has a place . . .
so softly she shines
and rolls like a mighty river
the power beneath the surface . . .
a ripple upon the glassy surface,

protective yet passionate,
expressive yet mute,
a star uncovered by a little cloud . . .
and then tucked away again,
weaving in and out like
a glowing ballerina . . .

each note
a strike against my heart . . .
uplifted or down . . .
feelings most profound  . . .
I hear and recognize emotions
most human . . . yet
melodies sung by an angel
through each stroke of a key along
the ledge of a stairway
flying up higher
yet higher still,
I dance along each note . . .
melodies to carry me.


I want to see those hands fly across those keys . . .

it releases a flood of profound emotion within the heart of the listener.

Pure perfection . . .
And one of my favorite pianists and composers on Jamendo - this piece was already reviewed by Orangeupurple : 

(this song is not pure piano . . . but it gives me great joy . . .)

Beauty in the Darkness . . .
This song is very compelling - "Heart of Darkness" is a thought of night . . . deep and dark and subtle . . . . . giving brightness to the smallest of points of light and strengthening awareness of the smallness of humanity in the universe . . . the limits of our own narrow spaces . . . and here in the darkness we see the hugeness of the Universe. . . and we find our vulnerability here . . . we are vulnerable to evil but also to hope . . . and thus we come to know our humanity best in the darkness . . . and here we also recognize our own darkness. . . and feeling our beating hearts we gather together . . to dance by the fire . . .

Very beautiful music . . .

- M^^W -



Strikingly magic . . . those flying fingers thrill the listener . .
the heart beats more strongly
the soul is more exhilarated . . .

The listener feels uplifted and exalted . . .

The pianist has a profound talent . . . that enlightens the listener . . .
This music is filling my classroom with power and peace . .
beauty and an uplifting of the spirit . . . perfection . .
are those human hands that run along the piano keys like that?
or are they the song of an angelic voice? Perhaps a touch of both
are giving me the chills, I am experiencing, at the beauty expressed
through my computer's speakers . . . but no . . . I think it is magic . . .
the shine and glow of magic flows over me . . . as I listen . . .
loveliness that transcends . . .

Here is another musician who left his beautiful album
on Jamendo . . .
a treasure chest of heart touching music,
to flow across the ether
and fill our 
dark moods with understanding,
and love . . . and with a gorgeous, heavenly peace
completes the listener's day

and then this musician never returned?
Perhaps in another guise . . . 
I hope . . .
These are piano and instrumental compositions
with a positive and moving outlook,
uplifting and meaningful . . .
and many of these tunes brought me to tears .  .  .

Oh . . be still my heart:

Classic beauty . .
relaxing and flowing,
as a quiet walk
in an early morning,
at peace
with a gentle world. . . .
and wings to lift
above the pastel risen sun,
the air so cool
and full of glowing drops
of precious rainbows . . .
reflecting the thoughts
of a wandering mind  . . 
a beautiful atmosphere full
of exceptional music . . .
the piano drives me up
and up . . . forever higher . . .
I am touched
I am so very moved by the
beauty of this music . . .
and its spiritual reflection 
. . . the music so dense with angels' wings. . .
so capable of absorbing
all of my tears.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

The flow of . . .

All around me . . . the music flows,
sadly calling . . . like a water sprite . . .
stroking the shoreline,
messaging gently at malleable muds,
softly enticing . . .
with a lover's melodic tune,
echoing from the forest trees . . .
all around . . . dark green
like a cavern's maw . . .
stretching around me . ..
I am left to wander naked
and all alone. . .
the frosty air wrapped 'round. . .
as an icy blanket,
leaving me cold, so cold
to the marrow of my bone. . .
I walk along the water's ledge
and listen to the cry
of a sad and lonely owl
questioning humanity

asking who
and wondering why . . .

Left alone to dream               
                                              I dream of peace       
            flowing like a river beneath
 a brilliant sun                                            
                            and the lights in the periphery
 of my vision                                                                           
                      flash as if about to fly 
like the pelican,                          
                                         regal and unwary,     
  ready to lift the fallen
           and swim with the lost . . .                                              

a brittle leaf . . . 
briefly sways like a hammock,
                        then drops . .  fluttering like a
wayward page                                     
                         from a book half written . . .
the last of his kind . . . he dreams
before he lies buried                                                            
                                beneath layers of time  . . .
and slowly rising again                        
to the mountain top
he rests
                                     until he is finally lifted
in the cradle of the pelican
and taken home                                                   
to his dream . .

The days go by
go slowly by,
the moon droops low
half warmed by kisses
from a weary sun . . .
I set sail .  .  .  with a wisp
of a breeze . . . and fly
until there are no more
flowing through my
cold and empty soul . . .
and the dimmest star,
the furthest thing,
reflected on my lonely lake
reach up through tree branches mazed
and scraping against
a raw and frightened sky. . .
in violent breezes
in dark and dreamy
colors dim
and as the dreams begin to disappear . . .
my eyes close
and without a fear
I slip away . . .  . . .
and flow without the stream of life
I am no more
and yet
I find am . . .

A poem in three part harmony, a triptych painted for the visionary . . . a flowing tale of grief and ultimate triumph . . . a sadness prevailing along with the music from the spheres . . . reaching the listening and discerning ear . . . who will hear the sorrowing truth . . . and yet witness the hope that flows and carries the heart along  . . who?


Oregon . . . Pacific Ocean

Deep smoothness

the song of a flute .  .  . soars in crystal flight
above a tree lined horizon,
and across a deep divide . . .
a fluid satisfaction . . .
where the drums carry a dream,
a vision of a place less trampled . . .
a song of home wherever
a nomadic people wander. . .
wherever the heart travels
with the tides,
the winds,
and the wish to find
on the other side
where one has hope and peace and love . . .
This album offers
a quinque-divine array of meditative, exotic, ambient music
where one hears shadows of Early Glacial America
and Ancient Asia meeting . . .
 . . . moving the listener with un-repressed memories of a living breathing
Earth and her wild ones beneath a deep canopy,
on a place called home . . .
a place of dreams . . .

Deeply soulful, restful dreams . . .


Shyam Monk - Peaceful Guitar . . .

With a warm voice and a softly strumming guitar
this musician moves into your heart
your home
and clears the spaces of drifting souls,
lost and bewildered . .
he guides them away
to find their road
where they travel
until they reach the Tree
where they are nourished and grow
and climb into the heaven
of their dreams . .

fly away
fly away sweet dreams
and land on the lips
of the singer
spending words
of wisdom
and heart . . .

Shyam Monk plays a gentle, meditative, acoustic guitar, and he dreams for us . . . from the depths of his heart . . . a sweet soul, a sweet song with which to drift away, rest, and fly on warm uplifting breezes.


I Miss You!

Tunnel at Multnomah Falls, Oregon

I Miss You

it hurts. . .

a knife deeply gouges
right into the center
of my everything,
where blood is spilled as
transparent drops
flooding down my face,
like a song,
flowing from my heart

I taste the salt
of my despair
as my memories
place you
in the pockets
of my vision;

I hug the red pillow
where your head laid
a few hours ago
and I breath deeply of
the living essence of you;

I touch the places you touched
imagining the grains of time
you left behind . .

and yet far away you stand
on this small planet
as if a universe were created
within this interval,
between now
and tomorrow;

and the rain comes down 
through the hole
torn in heaven . . .
and the rain comes down
with a wistful sigh. . .
and the rain comes down
and mingles with my tears,
and the rain comes down.

Delicately beautiful, dreamy, sad and a little lost . . . 
A new artist on Jamendo . . . 

Friday, March 25, 2011

Rocks for Sale!

Portland, Pioneer Place 2011

Remember when you
             sat by the side of our dusty country
          selling stones,
                           which you found there . . .
and we laughed
               at the boy who
                                wanted candy . . . .
someone, perhaps an angel,
                              strolled up
           to your little stand,
                          and bending down
discussed with you
                    the merits of each small gem . . .
          and smiling, he . . .
chose one,
                               giving you a dime . . .
which sparkled under the glances of the sun
                                                 reaching through the shade . . .
as you sat in your arbor,
           the deep black shadows
held you down . . .
                       and you watched your customer
                     into the distance .  .
down that hot, shimmering lane,
you in the deep black,
                               the tree branches still as stone
        in that hot summer air,                       
a lone bird sang
            a short dry melody . . .
and you turned your little coin 
slowly in your fingers . . .
                           your back to us . . .
           that small boy
                            selling dreams . . .



My favorite was "Wind Calling" with the beautiful flute like sounds and the way the music flowed across my space like a gentle breeze . . . in softly rolling waves . . it was very beautiful . . . smooth and chilling.

I also enjoyed the vocals in "Follow Me" and the bouncier percussion and energy pulled out of the song, more upbeat than the normal ambient that this artist provided in this album.

"Real Spirit" with the chimes and other exotic tones was another very appealing song . . . I loved the percussion and that strong echoey sound, and sometimes hearing a lovely sitar . . . very nice! The way the musical instruments wove in and out of each other was extraordinary.

This album was a very nice mix of peaceful ambient and upbeat happier songs . . . and even with the mix the album had a delightful flow. I always love this artist's music as the tunes are always exactly as advertised . . . the music is nicely composed, and prepared and ready to be downloaded and enjoyed . . .


The short poem, "Rocks for Sale!" is based on truth . . . something that happened many, many years ago, regarding my youngest brother, Dean, someone who has been lost to me for a long, long time.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Orange and Purple and a song by Stefano Mocini

Album cover for "Just a Thought" by stefano mocini

Do you know?
I think world is orange and purple:
the sunset is orange and purple
the flowers are orange and purple
animals are orange and purple
thoughts are orange and purple
PEOPLE are orange and purple (but everybody calls them black and white)
jamendo is orange and purple (music also,, do you know?)
earth and water are orange and purple
Sometimes someone comes to us saying: orange and purple are the same!
But, we think that's an utopia and we don't believe it; BAD!!! Believe in the utopias! Please believe in dreams! Orange and purple will be the same colour and if you believe it.
Dream a better world...

- Stefano Mocini

Such a beautiful piano which flies into my heart and lifts me up . . .giving me striking colors to make me smile and have hope that good will always win in the end . . . and here we can all smile . . . listening to the emotionally touching music by Stefano Mocini

This pianist is one of my favorites on Jamendo, with a beautiful soul that grows and shines out like the full moon which guides us after the sun has gone down. Not only a wonderful pianist, but a wonderful person as well.

Thank you, Stefano .  .  . I will always hear your music as some of the best on Jamendo, some of the most beautiful and emotionally enriching. You give me heart . . . and you touched me more than you can know.

My favorite color combination is orange and purple. The colors of the sunset . . . quite striking and profound . . . a promise that paints the waters and your eyes when you look . . . and you know that it is the promise of a better tomorrow, and in a way, a promise of a beautiful forever . . . here are the colors of hope, just before the dark of the night . . . and the finding of that momentary joy, strikes you just before you lift your eyes to see the glitter of the stars. And though the stars are reflected in your tears .. .. the warmth and the fire of the sunset keeps a fire burning in your heart.

For you, dear Stefano . . . again a thank you for the reminder . . . and the thought . .  and of course, the beautiful music .  .  . <3  :-D

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Woman in White

Cimetiere DuPere Lachaise - Paris 2010

An hallucination . . . time passing
grains of time  . . . one second and then the next. . .
all has changed. . .
travels to a distant indeterminate . . .
  . . . yet the memories follow
like yellow butterflies with black tongues . . . invading
our dreams below . . . divulging our heart's desire . . .
what has split from the sound that was made
and the sound that remains . . .
like a ghost of itself . ..  fated to repeat
an echo of itself as if it was . . .
a face glowing like a lantern
gazing through the darkness . .
eyes like super novas . ..
scratched and faded as paintings on tombs
screaming, despairing
the departed departing
never looking back . .  through the darkness
through the darkness . .
was death just a yesterday . .
yet to be dreamed . . .

The music is dark ambient . .. 
the voice is surreal . ..  floating . . . monotone . .
full of melancholia, despairing yet calming and desirous . .. .
this music will take you through the dead of night . .  where
the shadows form where the moon hides
. .  and out of the corner of your eye
you see her . .  . the woman in white . .
she dances for you . . .. making you burn with desire . ..
a flame deep down inside you . ..
paralyzed with lust . .. yet if she has her way with you. . .
you will die . . . while the music plays . . . she will dance for you
and you hope . ..  for the risen full moon

Life in the hereafter by d27m

Dreamy, dark and exquisite . . . Every time I tried to write something about this album I started off on a different tact . . . I saw thousands of pathways . .. some shining and some dark and drained of life.. .. I saw the darkening moon and the dragonfly of the night . .  glittering and glowing like a fairy dancing on the fence . . . a choir moans as a guitar shatters the night . ..  a child laughs and nothing ends . ..  only begins . . 
and the cycle continues . .. through the night . . . the dark 

This album is magical as it designs dreams . .  and visions . . . creates fear and hope . . . flows like desire . . .  . flutters like a moth to the flame . . . burning . . . burning . . . smooth and warm . . . nothing more beautiful.

Goodbye - Hello

Saying Goodbye to Paris

My refrigerator holds an assortment of photos and clippings . . . comics that made me chuckle, stories that resonated with me . . . and poems that moved me . . . . Here is one. Its been on my fridge for a very long time . .  It came out of the Oregonian and is cracked and yellowed with age. So I copied it here for you to enjoy:


A poem:

by Li-Young Lee, Chicago

So we're dust. In the meantime, my wife and I
make the bed. Holding opposite edges of the sheet,
we raise it, billowing, then pull it tight,
measuring by eye as it falls into alignment
between us. We tug, fold, tuck. And if I'm lucky,
she'll remember a recent dream and tell me.

One day we'll lie down and not get up.
One day, all we guard will be surrendered.

Until then, we'll go on learning to recognize
what we love, and what it takes
to tend what isn't for our having.
So often, fear has led me
to abandon what I know I must relinquish
in time. But for the moment,
I'll listen to her dream,
and she to mine, our mutual hearing calling
more and more detail into the light
of a joint and fragile keeping.


Poetry is a delicate creation, always personal . . . For it means something slightly different to each and every observer . . . our pathways are our own . . . our moccasins fit only our feet . . . and we interpret the artistic communications of others through the lens of our own understandings . . . It is always a challenge to understand perfectly . . .

This story was like a dream itself ... .... reminding me that we are but temporal, and all that we think we own . . . is just momentarily in our grasp . . . our existence, and what we love, is beautiful and delicate and ephemeral as life, a mere wisp of mist streaming over the dew laden grass before the rising of the heat of day . . . and occasionally we remember that everything we have and we give is not ours at all . . . but something like the mist, which will return to us in the end . . . 

. . . . like music . . . each note a sensation. . . like the touch of a feather that glances off the shoulder, where the wings once appeared, with strength and courage .  . What is music but the tender expressions of a being trying to become real and visible through the misty shields that come between beckoning souls. What is art, of any style, but the longing of an angel to say . . . "I am here . . . together we make a whole . . . the picture will be clear . .  if together we stand . . . " And in the meantime we make the beds and share our dreams . ..

I like this particular musician, Score Creationism. This is what he said in regards to this story-telling album (Let There Be Notes): "In the beginning music was created.  Man learned this and was punished.  Scores/Soundtracks for movies, games, or your life." That tickles me and the music gives a story of creation involving a little more than we are used to hearing . . . . Its worth listening to because its quite beautiful, and moving . ..  and I enjoyed it very much.

Hello . . .  Portland

Gorgeous . .  surreal . . . uplifting . .  flutes . . . bells . . . song that welcomes the listener into the new day .  . lifting up into beautiful melody .. . harmonious and adventurous . . . A wonderful listen.