miles and miles of ancient, empty desert, gentle hills, and this old ranch
alone in a darkness so dark, even the wind gets lost
so dark, you can almost smell the moon
so dark, you can see the lights of Ft. Worth from here
He can't sleep
coyotes in the distance making their spirits heard against all odds
raw, soulful, wild-clear
occasional car headlamps far away on some old dusty dirt road
silently creeping to nowhere
creaky old porch, looking at that sky
a shooting star so bright it had color - stealing his breath
the milky way - so dark it had structure
as if to pull him in - beautiful, ancient, immense - home
He was an old man now
how many more precious nights like this left?
never too far from his mind
He had felt the need for his guitar - gently played
Its an old friend, a reliable friend, hand crafted hardwood
it's gotten him through - all these decades
He found beauty and meaning and simple pleasure with it - hundreds of songs
It slept within his chest when not playing, came out from his soul when in his hands
It rang through him - true. Taken him where he did not know he could go - almost never let him down.
He had played and played to the darkness, felt its gentle peace. Now finally tired, ready for his bed, he
had put the old guitar down in its corner - as he had done a thousand times before.
Did not know this was to be his last.
Coyotes in the distance, soft breeze on the curtains
As he slowly drifted off
never to awaken again
The old guitar in the corner, now silently waiting, forever.
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