When you’re holding onto each note so hard, the knuckles of your soul are white.
And every reckless thing inside you is tearing in a different direction and every direction feels like a place you’re been waiting your whole life to find.
The song he’s strumming hums in your bones, stirring something that you’ve let sleep for too long and you don’t have to look at the people around you to know they’re waking up too.
It’s a song so familiar it lost its meaning a lifetime ago, but the way he plays it tonight, raw and unrepentant, naked and without shame, is so real it makes the life you thought you knew a lie.
So you let it all go, it’s just weight brother, you let it all go, you let it all go.
Music will save us. Anyone who tells you otherwise has forgotten what we are.
A haphazard collection of sinews and minerals, cells and molecules, moving, dancing, swirling in the ebb and flow and waiting for that intangible moment when…
-ST
