The Music Played on for at least an hour and then

 the CD, compact disc, finished its rotation.

The sky is the limit on sound and availability of incense. The music incensed my ears and the draft in the room was held so close to my discomfort that I could not decide what to do next. Should I replay the CD or not? Shall I ask a higher authority, a precedent never followed before. 

Should I play the compact disc again?

Was it a highlight of your day. Did it have a name to be remembered once the rotation was complete. Did it bring to mind beautiful people made for song and dance. Or instruments of music continuous with rehearsal and acceptance?

I applaud you. I replay the CD. 

The music went on to many, many notes. 

Remember to collect your habits before the rotation finishes. In awe. 

So much to say about it all.

The rhythm was congruent to ideology. Pause and display. Talent the gift of the moment. It was speeding up. More notes were being included per second. Then the electronic, the gadget was introduced to relieve the artist of all hype about display. Bang on those drums. Hip Hop hop hop. Do stop.

Do stop I tell you!

No lyrics? Let me introduce some. Set your groove to my spatial dilemma. We need more room to  dance. Make more room. We need to dance.

We need to dance and then, now, sing and then, now, rap and then, now, believe. 

This is a cultural fix. This is the best time of day and night. This is the best quiet of my life. 

Oh, officially, I have never heard this compact disc before. It was kept off limits until this night. 

It was dreaming of its own spangle. 

Something brewed like tea in my memory. Can I actually sing like this?

Listen to me play this flute. Up and down the ladder of keys. Sing then rebuttal of the game we play to bring harmony to synthesis. Only in music, I applaud. Only in music!