From The Clouds Collection: The Airless Silence

Musically, there are rythems too.  It's not just what we feel or see.  The sounds are predictable, but the melodies are endless.  Eternal, like the afterlife.  Ever expanding, like the universe itself.  Our toes tap to the beats, our humanity is united.  The melodies are made into songs, words are added, the music is the delivery method.  Straight to the heart, the mind, connecting a room.  Or a circle.  Or through the blue teeth, our regards to the blue again.  Or from the digital cloud.  Proximity has been defeated, it's importance diminished.  Freedom, liberty, and independence pacifys and empowers.  This they know.

Thunder only happens when it's raining.  Stevie knew when she wrote it.  Years ago, 40 trips ago, or so.  Nicks of time.  Around the sun, the travelling life.  Through the nothing, the airless silence beyond our precious oxygen.  The sound waves are still there, they are detected somewhere else, by something else, they are digging our tunes.  Some of them, the ones about peace and love and justice and karma and joy.

The smiles are understated, but they are there.  The funny bone escape, when it's just true.  The alternative reality, intentional elusiveness.  Transparent con.  Avoiding fear by avoiding fear.  Music is the fuel of the operation.  Oil, cutting the friction.

Take the amplifier away, players will do the playing anyway.