Octaves of Love Poetry Contest
5/6/2026
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
The music begins in a minor key, a low vibration that rattles glass before the weight of it is truly felt. Tis the sound of a house settling in the dark, wood groaning under the pressure of old habits. We reach for the higher notes, the bright trills, but the fingers find only the cold, ivory surface of moments that have already passed. There is a resonance in the empty hallway now, a ghostly harmony we once held devout, now frayed and pulling at the edges of the room. Every shared word carries a hollow echo, like a bell struck underwater, muffled and slow. We are two instruments falling out of tune, the bridge warping under a sudden, bitter frost. The lower registers grow heavy with what is unsaid, a dense, suffocating bass that anchors us to the floor. We play the scale until the hands grow tired, listening for a resolution that never arrives, finding silence where a melodious song once flourished.
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