Music Man
Before the applause, he stood, listening after playing, hearing the accolades, of the full house standing, his band having left the stage, a dream of musicians, having changed like the springtime skies of creativity he had journeyed through in decades across the world.
Tall, in his early sixty of years, tousled hair, thin arms, black trousers, shirt and sneakers, he looked neat and relaxed, unplugged from the carefully coordinated array of pedals, amplifiers, drum kit, keyboards and accessories. All for the production of tapestries of music that he played through, feeling his way and teasing, creating complex, melodic, sublime, challenging and exhilarating music that had lifted and reminded his audience. Of their journeys of feelings, emotion. And most of all, travel, time and change across their decades of lives.
He smiled, and then sat down, the two lights focussed upon his bowed head as he began.
He crouched over his acoustic guitar and played.
It was water, a stream, a small river of sunlight that glistened from the past that was now present, a now that filled the stage with golden ripples and remembering, fragments and melodies of places, times and people in lives no longer with our own.
The river ebbed and flowed, eddies and currents, time without a pause, as if he was dipping into winds and waves of music that are always there, through us, about us, inside and out, as if somehow he was able to listen differently to the world, our passage of lives.
And, for just the briefest of moments create, hold, and ignite the candles of our lives, that are part of a greater tide, a wider sea, that plays to a deeper place that exists in all who walk through this place in the fleeting passage of years.
When he stopped playing, the silence was so great, so still, that time herself had stopped between the shadows of our lives.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
