Music Like Alf: Within Us All?

In class today, my heart shattered upon hearing that Lace could not hear music for the longest time, merely hearing a drone of instruments and lyrics, thus not fully understanding the concept behind poetry as music. This upset me so much because music has been my saving grace. I have been blessed with the gift of music; there isn't a day I don't hum something or pick up my guitar. Everything I hear, taste, see and smell is music. So, when Sexson made the connection between poetry and music, nothing made more sense to me. When I was a girl, I would write poetry and stow it away under my bed in a shoe box, until the rare occasion when I would clean my room and find them, like lost artifacts of an ancient ruin. I would put a tune to my rediscoveries, scratching on sketch book paper my own version of notes on a "scale". I remember the hours I spent contently pouncing on the keyboard in my bedroom until my mom called for dinner. But, hope was replenished, thanks to James, yet again, when he addressed how, despite her inability to hear music, her blogs contained such a beautiful rhythm. And it made me wonder: Music can't just be something one hears; is it within all of us? Is it something certain people are more in tune to than others, but is still a subliminal feature within us all that causes movement, friction, life? What if music was the vibrations not only in all of us, but at the core of the universe? (String theory anyone?). Beethoven didn't seem to need to hear music to feel it, to know it.
Late night tangent.
Anyway, thinking of this whole poetry-music thing, I couldn't help but recall last semester's oral traditions class, and I let my mind wondered to when my mom would sing my brother and I Psalms when we were little. I remember sitting on her gigantic bed as a little girl, next to my brother, who was either half asleep or conguring up some sort of bodily noise in order to gain a giggle. She would sing all sorts of different Pslams, and we would sing along... I had forgotten that memory until a couple of weeks ago, when I was moving out of my old apartment, I noticed the beginning of my mom's favorite Psalm-song, Psalm 51:10, written in pink lipstick on my old roommates bedroom mirror. Instantly, Psalms came spilling out of my mouth in song, like Alf, the sacred river (The other one I remember specifically is Psalm 34:7....and now its stuck in my head...). And that was when I thought about the oral traditions. I'm not exactly sure if Psalms are considered poetry (I guess I would give them credit for their vague passages, and go-to life lessons), but I do know that they were sung back in their day. I am wondering now, though, if they were sung for songs sake, or for the sake of memory? In most Christian denominations, churches will sing from hymnals, where most of their hymns are passages from the Bible, in particular, Psalms.
Maybe I should put a tune to some of Steven's poems...