I wrote this piece in the autumn of 1997 on a road trip with my business partner Ron.  We were on our way to NY to pick up one of his Old English Sheep dogs that had just been bred there.  It was 2:00 AM. My mind was overcome by this story.  I grabbed pen and paper and five minutes later....


Think of the great works of Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, Bach, The Beatles, and on and on...  all of what they expressed stood before them all in glorious potential...  that is what this article is about. 

"The Music Awaits"

Notes in scale of sound, points of time in rhythm - endure a timeless existence perfectly locked in crystalline order.  As colors of the palette, with no anticipation of their own await their artist, music awaits the minstrel.

Ages began when man started counting time.  All the music that would be made intimately surrounded him in latent expectation.

Servant to its master, the notes of scale and points in rhythm stood watch toward the world as generations march past unaware.

A pipe, a flute, a resounding string - always among us to speak, whispered the existence of music down the corridor of man's time.  What glorious potential stood silently by.

The minstrel listened, heard, and gave it breath in this world. As life giving waters rich in the elements of earth flow to the seed manifesting new life, so too, the breath of a man, the workings of his hands - driven to bring forth what only his heart can understand, flows out to the wall of infinite potential.  Tirelessly and instantly, the notes eagerly obey.  The heart cries of the minstrel manifest in sound.

Open to all yet found by few, invisible inaudible heart sounds live as the minstrel commands the obedient wall.  The wall of potential becomes a responsive myriad of wonder. Hinting of heaven, a growing living legacy we call music, now speaks to this world.

The noble minstrel, servant to his heart, knows no greater joy.

"Dance young lover. Dance dance dance. The world cries to you, begs you to touch it by living the truth."

A whisper fans to flame magnificence - there's no end to the cadence, no boundary to confine it.  Glorious majesty clothed in scale and rhythm become manifest - suspended form, sculpted by the soul, forever to declare the cascading flight of a free heart in an infinite universe...  All music exists, all music awaits.  God bless the minstrel.

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