Closing my eyes, I recreate the first song that made me want to play guitar. Even now, nearly two and some decades after hearing the palpable cry, my heart stirs, never ceasing to find spirituality and grace, despite familiarity.
Alone with my guitar, letting it wail, immersed in the feel of my fingers sliding over the strings, forgetting the cruelty, the aggression, the betrayals, the inhumanity sauntering along the street, in the next city, across the country, on another continent.
I surrender the struggle to the only entity of tolerance and wisdom and peace and love I acknowledge: music.
(c) Sascha Darlington