a lone harpist stands in the calm, cool breeze. where rays of sunshine beat down from heavens door. a thousand fragrant blossoms lying at his feet. and a flock of birds making their way home.
a stranger comes to rest a while. weakened by the long days travel. from dawn until dusk wandering with just his guitar. striving for some sort of escape onto an endless dirt road.
he's searching for that lovely place. that one place that he can call his own. a getaway. a far away land where no one knows his name.
he's searching for that place of inspiration. strumming chords together to form his hearts beat. a new song. a new melody.
lays down his patch of cloth and lays a while. the harpist plays his peaceful tune while they both are speechless. completely content.
presence is all that matters. for their song speaks so much more. to be played by the sweet strum and each harmonic chord.
music cures their weary bones and brings two souls together.
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