Autobiography that shares the ordinary childhood followed by the departure, the adventure, and the return. The path of the poet and mystical journey that may sound foolish in the cold light of day. The door has been opened, and the way forward is clear. I settled in and relaxed on the rock as if it was my second home. I let the atmosphere of the air and the water settle over me. I crossed my legs and got even more comfortable. This was where I belonged. I stared at the spray above the little rapids that jumped about 2-3 feet above the surface and concentrated on it to the exclusion of all other things. A few minutes passed, maybe more before a faint prism formed above the rapids as the first rays of the longest day crested the top of the mountain. The colors of the rainbow ran back and forth from left to right and back again. It was a beautiful display of nature, a rainbow dancing 3 feet tall on top of the rapids, given birth to by the spray. I followed its every nuance in a thousand twists and turns the spectral colors became more brilliant and taller as the moments passed. After about 10 minutes the rainbow was growing taller and rising up higher above the river and had left the spray far behind. The rainbow was now intense and brilliant beyond belief and it had overpowered my concentration and all my senses except for my feeling of wonder and amazement. The random strands of light now rose high up into the air so that sitting 4 feet above the water with my legs crossed on the boulder I had to look up higher and higher at the display 30-40 feet in front of me. When the dancing rainbow had held my every attention for 20 minutes, eyes darting back and forth upon it to squeeze out every color and movement it began to happen. I started to place notes exactly where the movement of the immense columns of light danced. For several minutes the music and the light worked their magic separately. Then the tower of dancing columns of light was starting to become syncopated to the tentative lines of music coming slowly yet more insistently out of my head. The random dance of the rainbow 30 feet above the water had now become my very own light harp that seemed to respond to the music playing in my head. Perhaps it was the music that played in my head that responded to the movements of the rainbow, I could not be sure. The music that had been tentative and halting at first now seemed to gather strength and what had been one melody was now an orchestra in full voice that wove music as intricate and simple and beautiful as any music that I had ever heard before. The way the strings and wood winds all took turns weaving in and out of the main line melody surely one of the great masters would envy me. I seemed unable to pull my eyes off the spectacle but I suddenly realized that I must somehow capture the music that was tumbling out of me without hesitation or reservation. I thought for a moment that I would grab my pen and scribble the line of the melody and the interleave of instruments as they took turns progressing the construction of this cathedral of sound. Without turning away I struggled with myself before realizing that if I attempted to capture the music I would have to break my eyes away from the light harp of the Gods and thus I would lose the music entirely. It was with frustration and then acceptance that I decided it was better to experience the music than to attempt to capture it and lose the stands of light and music both. I half mourned and half rejoiced in the spectacle and the loss.