FINDING THE MUSE IN THE DARK

songs of pain

FINDING THE MUSE IN THE DARK – By Emmanuel Chika Prince

Indeed, without the dark. We’ll never see the stars

“Life is short, live every day like it’s your last” that was my motto and I clung to it like a baby kangaroo. That was until a life altering event changed the tide of my perception.

I have always wanted to be a musician: during my teen days, I was notorious for disrupting the whole compound with my loud vocal training that sometimes bordered on insanity. Once during my pitch training, my landlord had to rush downstairs because he taught something disastrous had happened to me.

Then fate struck and my musical hope was punctuated by her cruel full stop.

On the eve of my twenty-second birthday, I received a call from my close friend Ezekiel.

“How far, can you come to the island?” he asked

I have always known Ezekiel for spontaneity but I had to ask.

“What’s going on there?”

“A producer wants to meet you, I will send you the address” was his reply

Those words were like magic to my ears. I jumped from my couch and almost smashed my phone in excitement; I tossed in my best casual attire and raced out of the house like an athlete.

As I boarded a bike to take me straight to Berger, my phone beeped. I looked; it was the address of the place.

My mind wandered between best and worst case scenarios. I nursed the possibility of a big break that might eventually lead to a blossoming career or a massive flop that will definitely compound my misery.

What I didn’t see coming was a commercial bus at full speed, neither did the bike man.

Needless to say, the next thing I knew, I was whirling in the air like a stunts man in a badly scripted movie and as I hurtled down, I remember thinking to myself: is this the end?

Well, it wasn’t.

Storried Finding the Muse in the Dark

At least not the end of my life but definitely the end of my singing career because according to the doctor, the injury I sustained from the accident affected my vocal chords and I might never be able to sing again.

I lapsed into depression and alienated myself from human contact. For many months, I relied on self-loathing and rage as my inspirations for survival.

I developed a habit of writing out my rage; I even started a blog and named it: Diary of a depressed dreamer.

Then one cool evening as I sat down with my journal, ready to scribble one more hate poem to the universe, something clicked inside of me and it was different from the muffled anger that fueled my previous writings.

I wrote the words as I heard them:

If I could but sing one song

‘Twould be of love lost to fate

Hope dashed against time

Smiles forgotten in the mire…

On and on the muse flowed and I found myself humming a strange tune along with the words.

I STOPPED!!!

THIS WAS WEIRD!!!

I went straight to the old piano in my room and struck a chord in key F; I played along with the tune and mimed the words of the poem as they came.

I HAD NEVER FELT SO ALIVE!

For the first time in months, I noticed the singing birds at twilight and the stars in the moon’s absence. I had found a joy that surpassed my love for singing.

It occurred to me that in my depressed state, I had discovered myself and that even though I might never sing on stage; I can make that dream possible for others.

 

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FINDING THE MUSE IN THE DARK

By Emmanuel Chika Prince

Indeed, without the dark. We’ll never see the stars

“Life is short, live every day like it’s your last” that was my motto and I clung to it like a baby kangaroo. That was

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