Stereo

I always believed life wanted company
a second set of ears,
a second breath to lean into the moment.
Discovery feels fuller when it echoes,
when wonder has someone to answer back.

I learned this first from music.
In mono, the song survives
melody intact, rhythm obedient
but it stands alone, flat against the wall,
a voice with no room to wander.

Then comes stereo.
Two channels speaking in trust.
A guitar steps left, a whisper drifts right,
space opens between notes
like a room you didn’t know you were missing.

Depth appears.
Imaging sharpens.
The soundstage stretches its arms
and suddenly you’re inside the music,
not just hearing it, but inhabiting it.

Life feels the same.
Solo, it plays the tune.
Together, it reveals the layers
the subtle harmonies,
the warmth that only exists between.

I don’t want a louder life.
I want a wider one.
One where meaning moves back and forth,
where joy has dimension,
and the journey, like the music, is best heard in stereo.