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Mode of Cosmic Therapy: Striking The Tone Of Truth An unmistakable ineffable song of indescribable liberty abounds within each of us. The remotely familiar lyrical melody, the relatively haunting engaging chord structure, the intriguing easily digestible and remarkably palatable harmonically induced rhythm gently bids us to "come hither; return to that which thou doest love and need in order to be free." Dance. Sing. Be Merry. Rejoice in overwhelming irresistible pleasure, without the sense of guilt attached. For some unknown reason, we deny and shy away from the natural and convenient inclination that so dauntingly lures us to embrace its inherited passion. We not only deny its call, we sublimate its distinctive delectable tone. We procrastinate and silently fume, never consciously realizing that we are cutting off the deepest yearning of fulfilling our souls. Nothing else will suffice. {Not family. Not lovers. Not vocation. Not education. Not fortune or fame. Not religion.} Nothing. Ironically, we end up feeling ashamed for no apparent reason when experiencing this ONE precious desire. We go so far as to even feel apologetic not knowing why we can't be satisfied or subdued. The mere mention of the possibility of the idea of indulging ourselves in such unexpressed beauty in Musical Rapture's Repose of the Self brings on an inexplicable sadness. But, why should it be that way? Ignorance. Plain and simple ignorance. We simply don't know how to receive ourselves in fullness. We invent reasons, logical explanations as to why we 'feel' a certain way or on the very same token, 'Don't feel anything at all.' No matter how much we evade the issue or to what lengths we go to try to mask our innate yearnings, the song will not be silenced. We can not nor will not be able to escape the melodic bliss of the undeniable 'song of unsung self'. Unceasing tones ring out without definition or recall. How does one recognize the release of that undulating unforgettable tune? By and through the slight tilt of the head, the whimsical gesture of the hands, the hypnotic motion of the eyes, the irresistible luring of the lips, the intoxicating nuances and inflections in the voice, the energetic bounce in one's gait encompassed and embraced in the totality of expression manifested throughout one's sexual sensual energy established and maintained in one's body throughout his/her lifetime. Sexual Energy is the highest form of spiritual energy available to mankind. It is Musical in nature. Yes, the Music is in you...deep within you, and it resounds through layers and layers and layers of spheres vortexed in your core. The intricate explicit essence of who and what you are radiates from this ubiquitous dimension. It's Esoteric {hidden} Music speaks only to you in a specific language of personal code and symbol. It's sacred mysterious veil remains tightly sealed and undisturbed until you alone invite its unambiguous presence to make its abode with you. There have been times, few in number and far in sequence, when the Musical door of reference marked "Enter at thy own risk" pushed itself slightly back, enough for you to enter therein, but you did not. You, once again, returned to the tinsel world of distraction and discontent. However, you were not released before and without hearing and being indelibly implanted with a minute measure of the unutterable sounds of orgasmic ecstasy that belong singularly to you. No doubt the unquenchable spirit was more than you were willing to bear at the time when crowded and consumed with/by a life of superficial busyness. Yet, the caressing splendor of its soothing melodic majestic refrain left you with an uniquely fashioned demanding appetite for nothing less than the Music of Liberty and Truth. It's a shame. A crying blistering shame that such untold grief and sorrow must be exchanged for the ultimately satisfying and re