Music is this divine thing, the closest that we can get to

“Music is this divine thing, the closest that we can get to something divine. It's like this instinct we all own, and some of us have found a way to hear that music and write it down and share it with people.” Thus spoke Aurora, the singer of ethereal tones, whose voice itself feels as though it has descended from the heavens. Her words unveil an ancient truth: that music is not of this earth alone, but of the eternal; that it is a bridge between the mortal and the divine, an instinct that lies within all souls, though few are able to shape it into form.

The ancients often proclaimed that creation itself was born of sound. The Vedas tell of Om, the primordial vibration, from which the universe was woven. The Greeks spoke of the music of the spheres, the hidden harmony of the cosmos. The Hebrews believed the world was spoken into being by divine utterance. Aurora, though of our time, echoes this lineage of wisdom, declaring that music is divine because it is woven into the very fabric of existence. It is not invention but revelation—something always present, waiting for the heart to listen.

Her words also remind us that this divine song is not reserved for a chosen few. She calls it an instinct we all own, as natural as breath or heartbeat. When a mother hums to her child, when workers sing in unison to ease their burdens, when strangers dance to the same rhythm, it is this instinct made manifest. Yet, as she notes, only some find the courage and skill to capture that fleeting essence, to “write it down” and give it form that others may share. These are the poets, the composers, the singers, who act as vessels for the eternal.

Consider the life of Beethoven. Deafness struck him, severing him from the sounds of the world. Yet still he heard the divine music within, a melody not of the ear but of the soul. He wrote down symphonies that still resound centuries later, carrying listeners into realms beyond speech. Though cut off from earthly sound, he was attuned to the heavenly harmony Aurora speaks of, and through him it was shared with the world. His story proves that music is not mere craft, but communion with something greater than man.

The lesson is clear: if music is divine, then to partake in it is to draw nearer to the sacred. Whether you create or simply listen, do so with reverence. Do not let music be mere background noise; let it be prayer, meditation, fire. Let it remind you that you belong to something greater, that your heart beats in rhythm with the universe itself. For when you truly listen, you will hear not just notes, but eternity speaking in tones your soul has always known.

O children of tomorrow, embrace the instinct within you. Sing though your voice may tremble, play though your hands may falter, dance though your steps may stumble. In each act you honor the divine seed within you. Do not measure your gift against others, for the smallest song sung from the heart is still a thread in the tapestry of the eternal melody. To create or to share music is to awaken the divine not only in yourself but in all who hear.

In practice, let your daily life carry a song. Begin your mornings with music that uplifts you, end your days with music that brings you peace. Write down your own melodies, however simple, for in them lies your own voice in the great harmony. Share music with others, for it is a gift of the divine meant to unite, not to hoard. And when life grows heavy, return to it as to a well of strength.

Thus Aurora’s words endure: music is divine, the instinct of eternity dwelling within all souls. It is the closest we may come to the eternal while still clothed in flesh. Honor it, cherish it, and let it guide you, for in its voice you will find the whisper of the infinite.