by Joshua Paul Greene
Music has the power to transform, transpire, ignite, extinguish, cause fear, cause anguish and cross the boundaries of language. It is older than the oldest tree and yet younger than the newest beat of your heart. Timeless, it lives forever in the souls of the living and the graves of the dead. Created by nature and bastardized by man, it might in fact be the only honest living form of expression still standing. And yet is not standing, nor is it lying down, as music goes so far beyond anything we could understand as form that any attempt to define its shape or trajectory would be tragically insulting.
Writing I suppose is a close second in terms of honesty, however it takes much more effort for the hand to write a thought than it does for the body and soul to express it through music. It is due to this inherent, irrevocable and irresistible reason that writing so often falls prey to contamination by the human mind: The longer it takes to refine a thought in to something that can be understood by another, the less truth it holds; the less potency it possesses. These very words that you’re reading are in all likelihood so far from the meaning my heart would like to convey that I would almost venture to say they’re not worth reading at all, much less giving any thought. And yet, I still continue to write and you still continue to read because the aforementioned notion is far too pessimistic to stomach after only one encounter.