And then I stopped the video for I was moved to play my music. And rising from my recline, I lifted my guitar and played two songs. The first is for a girl that made me mad with desire but who never returned a single kiss. The second is for another girl who lived on the other side of the planet whom I never met but moved me as well. And when I had half finished the second song, I saw flashes of scenes where I had never been, but were all familiar, and they were other lives. And the lyric to the second song is “Lucy are you crying; I’ll meet you on the other side,” and 24 hours prior I had been to the other side in a Shamanic sojourn where the spirits let my body die for some 3 hours, and I ventured down to Styx to see what was the matter, and rising from that hell, I glimpsed at God at the gates and plead for my mercy, and the angels sung my praises of Abbie and Mark and all the rest.
And I was placed in the heavens as one who was a god, but do not think that this is pomposity for being a god is more a chore than a gift; every sneeze can move the Earth and tear apart the continents, and therefore it is more sadness and trust in fate than anything else. The only good thing about being a god is the recognition for your past travails, the trophies to your sadness.
And the whole of my journey up the immortal ladder was laid plain, and now I know why I am so impatient in this life, because the tale is wearing thin, and I have much to say, having slaved for so many eons. I cannot even finish a movie without playing two songs and writing about their movements on my heart.
And I have no love, and I fear I’ll have to go around the world to find one, having grown dispirited with this continent and its children.