Forever Man

Music is perpetual, and only the hearing is intermittent. - Thoreau

Innocent child.

Infused.

Singing.

Humming.

Nothing but everything.

Guilty grownup.

Confused.

Same songs.

Same rhythms.

Everything but nothing.

Lyrics taking on a new level of meaning.

Rhythms much deeper.

No longer a part of life.

No.

They are life.

Always have been.

Just didn't realize.

Shielding from life's deluge.

A faithful refuge.

Cradling when nothing else can or will.

The one thing no one can ever take away.

No.

Not ever.

Doesn't this world know?

They're mine forever ...

Author's Note

“What is there in music that it should so stir our deeps? We are all ordinarily in a state of desperation; such is our life; ofttimes it drives us to suicide. To how many, perhaps to most, life is barely tolerable, and if it were not for the fear of death or of dying, what a multitude would immediately commit suicide! But let us hear a strain of music, we are at once advertised of a life which no man had told us of, which no preacher preaches. Suppose I try to describe faithfully the prospect which a strain of music exhibits to me. The field of my life becomes a boundless plain, glorious to tread, with no death nor disappointment at the end of it. All meanness and trivialness disappear. I become adequate to any deed. No particulars survive this expansion; persons do not survive it. In the light of this strain there is no thou nor I. We are actually lifted above ourselves.” - Thoreau