Polyhymnia

A dolorous lull slowly engulfed the assembled throng. As a one, we all leaned akimbo into a new sound until we tired of the stance. Then each of us touched a finger to our chins, pensively contemplating geometric formulae while all the while keeping one eye on our muse, Polyhymnia. Should she shift her weight or the volume of her drone, we wanted to know it so that we could shift, too.

Steady on, the one-note drone took on two, three, many notes. The combined sound was our voice, the voice of Polyhymnia. It seemed the life breath of the galaxy. From within the auumm there arose whole symphonies, entire Sufi rituals, mudman chants. The muse and her psalter spoke to us, through us, and our prayers went forth, but not before ASCAP got a cut, DRM was installed and the copyright was locked in for an additional seventy five years.