Melody of My Soul

Every soul carries its own melody - fragile, unique, and unrepeatable.
This essay is a confession of a heart that never agreed to play by the notes, but chose instead to improvise with life itself.


I never loved patterns.
Not because I rebel -
but because the world has always seemed to me larger than three dimensions.
It glitters, it bends, it lives.
No frame can hold it.

In childhood they tried to teach me music.
A teacher pointed at the score:
“Play as it is written.”
But I heard no melody, only a cage.

And then I knew:
I am a creature of mood.
Music - is breath, improvisation.
I don’t read notes.
I hear.

I taught myself to play the piano.
I compose, I sway, I allow the melody to change -
in the morning and in the evening,
in winter and in summer,
for myself and for a listener beside me.
Each performance - a rebirth.

Those who studied “by the rules”
closed the lid of their instrument.
The diploma remained -
but music was gone.

And I live with the piano, as with a friend.
I address it - it responds.
In the dialogue of keys and soul
something third is born:
joy, sadness, memory, hope.

Music does not need to be the same.
Music is life.
And as long as my fingers find the keys,
I know:
freedom is possible.

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Here's a link to the song:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/dYlP1Zy-uUYCAg