A cry of a child is greater than the cheer of a crowd.
One reaches the heart of G-d, the other, the vanity of man.

You wished me dead. It was you who kept turning the crank to hear the music of my demise. Twas you who opened the box in which you had locked me.

Surprise!

The music stops.
The Jack is out.
It’s a new game now!

I built a presentation case to display my posthumous awards.

I threw the prehumous ones away because they didn’t mean anything to me.

One thought of a dreamer is greater than the scroll of a poet.
The scroll of a poet, than a city of wealth.

One one brings a vision, the other, sight. The third, an illusion.

The best artists write in layers. Each recipient of his blessing finds a layer of familiarity. Each admires the work for a different reason, but when a certain someone receives their portion, only they know the meaning and the reason for the creation.

If it were not for hate, where would the inspiration come from? Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks. Listen for the overtones for therein lies the music of the soul.

This is some of his greatest work.

It is doubtful that he will find the truth before it is too late. Until then, the message will float in layers until there is no one left to hear. No one left to care and the layers will fall into the crystal abyss.

Always remember, the one with the greatest talent hides the greatest pain. If you don’t get it, you are the one who is truly blessed because the rest of us struggle to keep the smile from falling off of our face, into the swill that we eat in silence, alone.

Do you care?

To the artist: I got the message. Did you?

Note: Sound file is 6 meg and contains rough language