The sweet taste of music

Do you have a thing that you love so much that it effects all your senses?  I do.  A beautiful piece of music does that to me.  I remember the first time I heard the 3rd movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata.  I was sitting on the floor of my room after school one day and I'm pretty sure it melted my radio.  It felt like fire tendrils creeping up my spine, it tasted like cinnamon and was most certainly brilliant shades of red orange and I know it gave me a rush; not like sugar, but like an endorphine high.  When I heard Rachmanioff's Etude Tableaux it felt dark and deep and so blue it was almost black, and those delicious chords in the middle; they were, well, delicious and I'm afraid I haven't experienced the food that it tasted like yet, but it was heavy and light at the same time; savory and sweet and it smelled of the sea after a storm.  Much of Mozart's music reminds me of the finest french pastries; multilayered, light and exquisitely sweet.  Brahms melts on my tongue like lamb and tastes as much like red wine as these mormon lips will ever experience.  My latest sensory experience came from Z. Randall Stroope's "I am not yours" the text is a poem by Sara Teasdale.  I put the link on my blog because you absolutely have to experience it.   There are no words for all the senses this song touched.  It wrapped around me like a thick quilt or perhaps like someone's arms.  It felt like a warm drink that starts to fill your throat slowly and radiates outward.   Perhaps I'm crazy, perhaps I'm too much of a 'bleeding heart' but I don't think I'll ever stop feeling words and music that way at least, I hope I don't.