June 10, 2004

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  Not Words but Strings This Story Tell     Blessed silvery notes arise Pulled from somewhere deep inside Translated from the hearts desire Through fingers raw and string of fire   A wooden body resonates Abstract feelings turned to sound Imperfection is the yearning still And time is where the story’s set   No finer note has yet been played When history placed my hand on wood This guitar knows it all too well Not words but strings this story tell   Through long gone times of happiness I played as though it’d never end Shout out loud it would for me All frivolous and notes carefree   Later it would learn from me A deeper tone of sad and melancholy All blue and weighty; hanging moans Sometimes no more then whispered tones   Alas it’s true, I must admit In my darkest hour, when the whiskey bit I lay poisoned, gazing, barely flick’ring My friend, my vessel, my life emptying

  Unexpectedly the gift arrived – a breath Inexplicably was I revived – a miracle The bottle smashed against the presence present A window opened o’r the doorway: an ascent   It seems as if this journey began When alcohol gave up its battle plan Soon the dust and darkness parted And an age old friendship was restarted   Now we play together, my friend and I And sing of life we’ve left to try Of the past there is still much to say We still learn its lessons day by day   Our hearts are set, our purpose strong Together we will sing our song And cast our light upon the darkness That still ebbs and flows around   Blessed silvery notes arise Older, yes but still alive Translated from the hearts desire Through fingers hardened by the fire   A wooden body resonates Abstract feelings turned to sound Imperfection still motivates a yearning Grateful stance for hope’s returning   No finer note has yet been played When history placed my hand on wood This guitar knows it all too well Not words but strings this story tell

  
  

   

  
  

   

  
  

   

  • 12:13 am
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