New World Symphony

As I sit upon a hill I realize that there is probably no one whole shares my love for Leopold Ludwigs New World Symphony.

The wall of brass and the majesty of strings.

I go for a walk and appreciate the little things. Graffiti on train cars. Free art for everyone to see.

I am in awe of the words of Shelly.  "I am Ozymandias, King of kings: Look upon my work ye mighty, and despair". It brings me both fear and much sadness. 

Have you ever wondered about the eyes behind Bill Evan's glasses? What he found most beautiful?

How have we 've gone from Victorian dresses to fashionable torn dress?

If possibly the Romans knew best, would it be proven if they have not let that library burn?

The small homes of Samburu, the hearts of their people, how can we forget.

The men who were locked away years and years before we came into this world, The women who fought for a right to have a right in the first place. Now tell me everything will be okay.

I can look down from a plane and see small machines heading into a direction unknown.

Perhaps some young boy who doesn't care for fame, but is still proud to see his work out there.

Sadly, He watches his mother drink tequila after tequila.

No room in her heart for his music.

He dreams of putting together words from a German dictionary. To find friends in Switzerland, Austria and Germany.

They wouldn't understand him. They would laugh behind their accents. I've been told this is all or nothing thinking.

To see so much light as well as dark. I can't smile and sing along to the radio just like anybody.

Why not join me and sing " Los Laureles "? Whats wrong with a little mariachi?

Who knows, just dust in the wind and wondering where all the flowers have gone.

I find myself slowing my pace and looking to the stars some nights. I sometimes I forget they are even there.

Such a brilliant design. Such a brilliant night.