“Son,” he said, “Grab your things I’ve come to take you home.”

In somewhat of a philosophical mood tonight…

The art of the song…

If you’ve been following along you probably realize I am nearly irrationally passionate about music…but not just any music, though it may seem that way at times.

The music that is art…THAT’S my music.

There is of course the music itself…the catchy tune, the harmony…but lyrics matter too…they should tell a story…but not just ANY story…sure they mean something to the author…but the good ones…well they should tell YOUR story…something you can interpret…something that touches you. That’s the way.

That’s the art of the song.

And then there’s the occasion where you wonder…just how the heck…did the writer reach right in and grab something of yours…in a literal sense.

Try this one on for size. It has specific meaning and memories for me…involving a bit of trouble, deep nights in the desert, new friends, and one of the first times I realized the universe was one HELL of a lot bigger (and stranger) than I had thought…I’ve been lost in that ever expanding universe ever since.

How about you?

Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night
He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing stretching every nerve
Had to listen had no choice
I did not believe the information
(I) just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom boom boom
“Son,” he said “Grab your things,
I’ve come to take you home.”

CUAgain,
Daniel Meyer

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