Wise Men Say

WISE MEN SAY

Music rises from the central depths, from the wordless depths that move and shape human life. It rises, circling upon itself, always seeking the centre: melody turns and turns around and reaches back to itself, completing lovely swirling circles that circle and wheel and never weary. As the beat of rhythm moves powerfully onwards, yet each beat is new, as if a surprise, surging from nothing to assert itself, to tell the world, with a thump, I am, I exist; to show that time moves forwards, to extend the song in time, to fill and shape the formless and the void. It drives and turns, it turns and drives; and establishes its own balance, its own space, its own fullness. The music turns, turns on and on.

Nor does love happen to everyone. Some never meet it at all; and, being so unhappy that they do not know that they are unhappy, they consider themselves happy enough. Some mistake the foothills, the mere emanation, of the great mountain, for the mountain itself; and then they are startled and confused, when they find that it is not enough to live on. Some are taken to the top - long or briefly - and prove unable to stay, for it is high and terrible. But those who reach it know that they have reached the centre of their lives, the centre around which music turns.

Wise men say -

Only fools rush in

But I can't help falling in love with you

Shall I stay

Or would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you

A head of thick black hair and a head of flaming red. Turning and turning, without need to count the steps or think of the moves; turning together, because that comes more easily than standing still. Each turning in the orbit of the other, like a moon and a planet, like a planet and a star. Let us make man in our image and likeness; male and female created He them. Harry and Ginny, moving in a path that is to both of them no different from breathing, no less natural than life itself; Harry and Ginny, turning like the evenly-moved wheel, the Love that drives the Sun and the other stars.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you

The music rises to its great instrumental climax; as if all the turning and turning of galaxies and stars, of light and darkness, of the beating hearts and breathing chests, big and small and endless and endless, as if all the in and out and round and round of all creation, as if all that turns, is at last to be resolved in one firm and majestic moment like this - one great gorgeous chord: one sight of steely, shimmering white, of a resolution in which everything meets -

No I can't help falling in love with you.