Even if for just a moment, it was only him and the music—lost together for eternity—and never.

Print by Gary Walters

Long, slender fingers plucked the stiff strings of an out of tune, weather-worn guitar. Loose shards of wood danced from the furious vibrations along the splintered fret—as a haunting melody rose out from the bowels of the instrument, and began to swirl through the heavy smoke-filled air.

It was 1935 and a young man found himself sitting on a makeshift stage in a steamy, rundown dive bar in Mississippi. He was a stranger in the town, just hoping to scrape together enough money to buy some food. But that’s not why he played; he didn’t care about making money most days.

None of the patrons paid him any mind—nor did he seem to notice. For in the moment, it was only him, his guitar, and the strumming vibrations giving momentary life to his one true passion; the blues. Everything else faded away as his spirit became free to dance—floating high above the world with the tips of musical notes drifting away with the wind.

His spirit soared through the clouds—with the brightness of the moon reflecting off the twinkling buildings below. Painful memories of past mistakes were taken away with each strummed chord. All regret for things once done vanished in a chaotic whirlwind of sound.

The chatter in the bar went silent as his guitar reached a fever pitch. Each chord let out an echo of emotion so powerful it could pierce one’s heart. While they weren’t paying attention before, all eyes became fixed upon him during the furious slaying of his guitar. No one could deny the brilliance unfolding before them.

His fingers moved with a lightning quickness, and a low tremble began to rise from his throat. Right in tune with his frantic digits, his voice elevated with an eerie crescendo—making it sound as if the guitar itself was singing. Nobody in the room had ever heard anything like it before.

The young man’s foot went from a light tap to a hefty stomp—his eyes remained closed but he saw a world of vivid color through the sounds of the guitar. He sang of pain from deep within his soul, and his fingers strummed as if they were no longer his own. He became lost in the music.

For on that night, the young man may have been lost—a stranger in town caring only to play for himself. But he had found one thing most never will; true passion. Even if for just a moment, it was only him and the music—lost together for eternity—and never.

Some say the young man sold his soul to the devil himself for that otherworldly talent. Others believed the young guitar player was just an apparition—a ghost wandering in search of a life he’d never find. But he was real once; a man of flesh and blood. A man who gave everything he had to the guitar—to his passion. Ultimately, it was his life he finally gave for his true love; the Delta Blues.

Art by PK4only



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.