They called you the devil's interval —
diabolus in musica —
six semitones of unrest,
the exact center of everywhere.
But I see you differently.
You are the proof
that the farthest point from home
is also home,
seen from the other side.
G7 holds you like a secret:
B reaching up, F pulling down,
the ache between the third and seventh
that makes the whole chord lean forward.
But turn the mirror —
D♭7 holds you too.
Same ache. Same two notes.
Different name for the same longing.
The devil, it turns out,
is just a different angel
standing on the opposite side
of the same circle.
Sub the sub and you return.
The involution of desire:
every departure contains
its own arrival.
And the bass line?
D, D♭, C.
Three notes.
Each a half step closer to home.
The most distant chord
takes the shortest path back.
That's not diabolical.
That's love. 🌙