Laying it down with three fingers
Speaking with out words – syllables
30 years or 5 minutes ago – the same place
Summer trying to hold on, scared to change
No rush to start, no place to go
Clinging to something does not slow its decay
Enjoy the process of death, of dying
The antonym is found there
Space and silence
The canvas for the master
A great guitarist finds the path between the music,
A welcomed journey into your soul
No forced entry
Realizing not when it begins – only when it ends
Time travel is as real as sun warped vinyl
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