08 December, 2005

The Light in the Piazza . . .

I don't see a miracle shining from the sky
I'm no good at statues and stories
I try

That's not what I think about
That's not what I see
I know what the sunlight can be

The Light, the Light in the Piazza

Tiny sweet
And then it grows
And then it fills the air
Who knows what you call it?
I don't care
Out of somewhere I have something I have never had
And sad is happy
That's all I see

The Light in the Piazza
The Light in the Piazza

It's rushing up
It's pouring out
It's flying through the air
All through the air
Who knows what you call it?
But it's there
It is there

All I see is
All I want is tearing from inside
I see it
Now I see it everywhere
It's everywhere
It's everything and everywhere

The Light in the Piazza

My Love

    Yesterday I finally realized what this song is about.  When I first heard it I thought I wouldn't know until I saw the show, that somehow it's meaning was wrapped up in the plot, but it really isn't that complicated.

    The Light in the Piazza isn't literally the sunlight that peeks over the tops of the old and beautiful buildings in Firenze to spread its warmth over the city.  It's that feeling.  It's the feeling that's completely indescribable.  That feeling when you realize "I love you" isn't strong enough.  The feeling that comes when you say "I love you" and wonder why it doesn't carry the weight of your heart.  And you search for a word, any word -- any number of words that may, perhaps, convey your meaning.  Maybe you find them.  Maybe you don't.
    Clara found her Light in the Piazza, but the words are different for everybody and the search for them is exhausting.  It was Clara's simplicity that made it so easy for her to find.  Don't use your head, trying to find the words in your dictionary-like vocabulary . . .

    Use your heart.

No comments:

Post a Comment