The music gently called him in his cradle
While he was just a child
Before he could even talk
He hungered and reached to play along
They made him wait.
Made him wait until he was six years old
then he took to it like bees make honey.
The longer he studied
the elss he understood
how to sing the song
in his soul
Eventually he left those lessons
and started searching on his own
Some see that he is searching still
What is the music in his soul?
What is that song that weaves
his parts into a whole
He is searching, always searching
to play the music in his soul.
He’d listen to Gospel choruses
study folk performers
he’d pick the Lester Flatt Bluegrass G run
explore jazz chords and Celtic rhythms
He’d seek out traditional players
and try to learn their songs
delighted whenever he could play along.
Then one old fiddler
put down his bow and asked,
“Sonny, you’re always asking me for the tunes
I like to play, and
I am glad to share them with you
But a thought occurs to me
don’t know if you knew,
but I wonder,
don’t your people
have some music, too?”
What is the music in his soul?
What is that song that weaves
his parts into a whole
He is searching, always searching
to play the music in his soul.
Journal entry 7/30/08 SBE