I really like this poem, especially the way that you've ended it. I think you're right that we too often judge people on how they look, or how they're dressed, without actually knowing about that person. I also like how you mentioned that even someone who puts off a strong, or happy, face can sometimes be the people who need some love (maybe even a smile?) the most. The ending is, again, great. If you look with your heart, instead of your eyes, it will not guide you wrong. Good stuff.
I love the idea of "correct change" in this poem. Yes, you're right, I think that, many times, people are so engrossed in the sake of change for change that they don't think about if it's a change that they need, or want. We pay and look to force change, through our appearance, through our relationships, and through other things, but if we wait, change comes to us. Life is change, after all!
A bit of criticism is that I felt the first stanza was a little confusing, and could have been clearer. That could have been a personal problem on my part however. ;) About your style, I like your use of the lowercase and lack of punctuation. I think it feels breezy. It's very understated and minimalistic, but the words speak entirely for themselves. I got a chill at the last line "that feels correct". It just felt... right, and like the perfect conclusion.
I like to think of myself as a musician and, honestly, music is incredibly important to me as well. I think I understand what you mean when you say that the character was looking for something new in music and felt that "there is nothing knew left to discover through music, that every forest and cave has been ransacked and eventually torn down."
What I love about this story is that it draws you in so deeply and induces you into a feeling of mad, wonderful creativity. You feel the music running through you like electricity and understand why the person couldn't move from his piano. You feel as if the other characters are actually intruding on you. The girlfriend, the phone, the police. You feel like they're interrupting you in the middle of something holy and life-changing.
A bit of criticism is that there were a few, incredibly minor spelling errors I noticed after I finished. They didn't detract anything from the experience, however, because I was too engrossed in the story. One can't notice typos when they're in the mind of a character, composing music. Another thing was that, occasionally, some of your word choices were a little jarring like "the letterbox chapped" due to my own infamiliarity with them. Also, the word 'rapturous' seems a bit overused. Once again, though, this is something I just noticed after I finished reading.
This story is an absolute joy, an experience, and, I think, truly a celebration of music. Your love of music really bled through and it translated into something amazing. I'm not certain what windfall allowed your story to wind up on my screen but I'm so much better off having read it.
I absolutely feel what you were trying to say. I think your word choice is phenomenal, especially the sentence that goes 'I had imbibed too much..'. I think that many artists have visited those bogs and forests. The paragraph about the cottage especially moved me, and you're right. It's far too easy to fall into complacence, and it is far too tempting in its own way. I would have liked to hear more about how you discovered your stagnation, but I guess that's not possible in the word count allowed.
Haha, since I'm not exactly religious, I guess I may count as a wider road person. It's okay though, I still enjoyed this and felt your words deeply.
I think what I like about this short story is that, to me, it's more of a buildup to a feeling than it is a "I did this, felt this, went there" story. To be honest, I didn't understand the concept at first, and kept wondering how this tied in with the prompt. But then it just kinda made sense. I think the entire story of wandering and following the road without being aware of it leads to a wonderful cathartic feeling when the reader is looking down the cliff over your shoulder and realizes that, they too, don't regret taking the road.
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