A person is a song,
Is a melody,
And people,
In numbers,
Once multiplied,
Are then symphonies,
Making up an orchestra.

Falling in love,
As a wise man said,
Is hearing a song,
For the first time,
A brain experiencing each,
Every single note,
As it leads to another,
While it synchronizes,
Subconsciously taking note,
Of detail,
Of precision,
Later coming to an awareness,
Of each sound,
As a whole entangled,
Within the rest,
As when one falls in love.

Similar are love and music,
Presence in the midst of a song,
Belief that nothing will come,
That will quite compare,
When immersed,
You see no other,
Hear no other,
Want no other melody,
You repeat.

A song can change,
Can alter a state,
As can a person,
A song can lose effect,
Goosebumps may leave,
As familiarity sets in,
What is it,
What we thought was love,
But a mere infatuation.

Proving a humans desire,
For new,
For experience,
For goosebumps,
As youth they dread,
We dread,
Routine,
What is the illusion of love
but routine,
Such ignorance leading,
Paving way for heartache.

In routine however,
Is safety,
Is shelter,
Is the devil you know,
Who you familiarize with.

New love,
Like a new melody,
Can surprise,
Will surprise,
How is it better,
You wonder the possibility,
What are humans but machines,
Simple yet intricate,
Our patterns so predictable,
Yet not.

We like new,
A new song,
A blank canvas,
Unfamiliar,
There is potential,
Potential an imagination may fill,
On the blank page,
Of a new soul.

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