Miss/Love you all.
Here's a sample of what I've written (this is excluding the six new songs).
Enjoy.
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this is our adventure.
cigarettes burn long and hot, the fumes slowly sift into the fresh lungs of our youth. we are at woodstock, and Jesus is our Jimi Hendrix. everyone is wide eyed, searching, optimistic and diverse. Benjamin sings American songs; Jean smokes his french cigarettes; Virginia wants to teach her heart how to love more. we're all here for something...bigger. something to trust; something to hold close, or something to hold us. i'm here to find a truth, in amongst the smoke. somewhere in these hills there has to be some thin air. so i'll keep searching.
what is it about this place that draws us all so close. the world seems to shy further and further away from the sacred everyday, but this place is so countercultural in that it defies that modernity. the sun sets in an orange blaze, behind the green hills, and God smiles along with us. i can see why God rested on the 7th; I could spend an eternity resting and admiring. soon we'll wave our goodbyes, one kiss on each cheek in tender platony, and we won't cry any tears, because there's no time for tears. we are golden, and the world has too much to discover. besides, we'll all be together soon enough, when we've finally found home, at the place where all searching ends.
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the stars seem to call out with such vigor, more so than i have ever seen before. calling out, not so much as an attempt to receive an answer to some rhetorical question, but merely to proclaim the goodness that is your love. the light that they create is but a spark compared to the light you create, and they call THAT out. they cry, "you, not us, are the chose ones! what a gift life is! to love, to laugh, to sing, to dance, to cry, to fear, to forgive, to remember, to mourn, to miss and to praise!" what a waste it would be to have such a gift, and to have it be friviously kept a secret. we should be screaming, "holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty" from the highest of heights.
hopefully someday we will find our words, and our ways, and we will finally give God what he truly deserves.
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the ghost of you lingers.
(if you were here)
running and racing, our windows down, the warm air rushing from west winds, from one side of the car to the other. nothing stale about this sepia scene: I came to pick you up, take you away from another apathetic afternoon. the small towns rush by like briefcase holding business men, late for tea with client a or b. we're on our way to the coast, the ocean seems forever away, and forever sounds pretty damn good. we're in this moment, this single frame of time when the combination of air and smoke in our lungs, tones in our ears and warm air carressing our soft faces, feels like eternity. in motion to the ocean. an open road before us, and nothing but history behind us. history's never done much for us anyways, so we're all casual smiles, swaying hair and waves of smiles.
our eyes will never deceive us again; we'll learn to trust, to love and, finally, how to cry.
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letter to a generation.
raise your heads, raise your voices, you electric children. life is more than the selfish desires that have been imposed upon us; life is more than our constant pursuit of an impossible happiness, which has been contrued by the people who have decided to sell it. we have a chance to dream, and we have the ability to imagine a world that is so much better than the one we're in. this world of our fathers is passing, and the responsibility is being placed upon us. what kind of state do we want to leave the world in?
raise your heads, raise your voices, you children of apathy. hope is real; love is real. we are not slaves to our idealism, and we are not slaves to our desires. when will our prophets begin to speak? when will we begin to create some sort of change? how long will we stay silent?
raise your heads, raise your voices, you children of hope. let's begin an insurgance of love, let's begin to tear down the barriers of hate that we've grown up in. let's destroy every label we've learned to accept and apply. let's let our stories cross our divides, adn let's begin to share. we can share our love, hope, experiences, ideas, and we can begin to sing songs that will echo the cry of our new found childlikeness.
raise your heads, raise your voices, you sleepy-eyed children. let's fall in love with the mysteries, and begin to look at our lives through the eyes of a child. when did we lose our innocence? when did success replace love? let's dream up a world where we truly love our neighbor and where the common good replaces selfishness. i have hope that this world can exist, and you do too, whether you realize it or not. because inside you beats the heart of a dreamer, you jaded cynics. we were created to dream; to imagine a world where we know, and experience, the true meaning of home.
so raise your heads, raise your voices, you children of today. we were given hope, and we were given voices. so let's teach our hearts to show love to one another, and let's teach our mouths how to speak truth.
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needless to say, europe is having an affect on me.
Jamison.
1 comment:
I'm gonna try to marry you one day, Jamison Dick.
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