When I wrote this it felt like playing an instrument. There was a rhythm.
As I turn the corner I see the famous advertisement, ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’..and I laugh and toss the glass I no longer hold..splashing in mime across pine and woods in the dining area..a deep voice utters this profanity and I laugh again and say..’You are not for I am hope incarnate’..as the tobacco is sweet on my mouth I know it may kill me..as the prided vessel of this earth descends to claim the strength of the soul I hardly know. Yes it is mine..but as the young man who has his grandfather’s most valuable and beautiful stamp collection..for he has never opened the album..knowing he has the only key..it cannot..it will not allow itself to be duplicated. So I have not seen this soul..is it simply because I know it is mine?..how foolish..the ony eternal part of me..and I live and hold it to show in stages of finite pride. As it has been done by the masters..as it has been done by the idiots and idiot savant who left his English manners and took the mind and body most capable to just one task..and I say my task is hope..yea a raving idiot.to show you the paints..that paint the world with wondrous hope..That strings the guitar that rings and plays all manner of bells and blues..so the world may hear hope..As I sing..I love..not in pretense..in feeling of the soul I do not know in pride..is my love then prideful..no..but it has a deep admiration and respect for any object or person..I know not of abandonment for it is of this world..it denies the all..it denies the fountain of eternal hope..Peace Tony