Gentle Notes

The door isn't one I can see,

Yet it grows, shifts, and deforms.

When I started there was only silence,

But everyday its volume grows.

The door started empty,

But over time it crescendoed.

It became an escape for me,

Getting lost in its rapid tempo.

The door isn't one I can see,

It started in my ears.

But it passed notes to the rest of my mind,

Its signature bold and clear.

The door started empty,

In its cries I sit for hours.

It screams both loud and soft,

Until I can feel its tone.

Through my ears,

It opens my eyes.

It's through this door 

The mind can harmonize