from No Rush For Gold:

Paper and tobacco burn and glasses empty of their drinks. Conversation beats from friend to friend, from bar to bar, from city to city. In a night, a thousand nights stretched from pole to pole spin our world into its endless midnight. The shadows await their day, the dark side of the earth moves with distant sunsets. There is so much to see and so little of it is seen if seen at all. In the blues of dim lights, the search turns outward.

—it was just a few days ago, I looked out my window and there was a crow, right there on the fence, not more than a few yards away…we were on the same level, face-to-face, I was inside, it was outside…it didn’t move or fly away, for a few minutes at least…I didn’t move either, I couldn’t move—

From the walks of city blocks to lonely drinks of the late night, the musician follows Estlin as he plows on. He is a fascinating performer and a sympathetic audience—watching, listening for the message, the message that is everywhere.

The door opens to a woman and she passes them by and steps behind the bar. The bartender greets her, the musician sees her.

—it was looking at me…it was looking into my eyes, a crow…was looking into my eyes—

*

A painting has come to life…

A breeze blows open curtains to a window open to the clearest view on the clearest day in the clearest light. A dog breathes this breeze and this smudge of paint breaks its sleep to yawn and look. The window opens to a world of land to run, just on the other side is a world of things to chase. The dog, painted long ago, is stiff and stretches. As the world sways it looks tired into the endless day. The dog returns to its smudge to sleep.

A woman stirs, she fills with the breeze and smiles in peace—she knows no dog is painted more cuddly, she knows no life is painted more sweet. The canvas is warm, the air is fresh, and from the window the sun shines as always it shines.

She stretches and out of the frame she steps. Clothing is gathered and slowly her skin is covered. Her air, her grace like a breeze fills the room.

*

—I hear them, I see them…these things that follow me…do you see that skeleton right there, hanging right there where you wouldn’t notice it, nobody would notice it…people come here everyday, order their beer from the list, that list right there and they don’t see the skeleton hanging from it…think of the things, right there in front of you, and nobody notices, nobody sees…how long has it been right there? how long will it be right there? nobody knows because nobody knows it’s there…it doesn’t belong but draws no attention to itself, thus it has been forgotten…and so it hangs—a forgotten skeleton—

A rare individual who has subdued his ego, Estlin grows to absorb his environment. His mind accelerates to double the meaning, any meaning there ever was. Estlin plows on and though he listens, the musician’s attention has been taken by another.

—and over there…RANT, just RANT…if I was there, I wouldn’t see it, but here I am and there it is…RANT…those guys, they don’t notice, neither do those outside, and the bartender, he’s talking to the waitress…you see, you have to look to see it…and nobody sees—

*

The musician only sees this waitress…

Low on her waist an apron is tied. Her stance is precise and easily she moves, carries herself wherever she wants to go. From her hips she turns and surveys her environment. Her hands fall, she smiles…

The night has fallen, so that must be a star…The first star I see tonight, the star to end all dreams—how she shines…Would she let me, near her in the sky I would be…Her curve, her light—the piano aches for such harmony…This woman creates music…

The bartender fills a few glasses and on a tray they are placed. This the waitress takes and delivers. She curves from her shoulders to her feet and the tray hangs at her side. To the bar she returns and straightens what needs to be straightened. The tray is laid out, she smiles…

The melodies found in the depths of beauty. This is a place where music forms warm and relaxed. Alive it is in this heart as is the gift of the rose, the rainbow, the breeze of summer. In a moment this life is tuned and the song of the soul whistles across all land, kisses the sand, crosses the sea. A cloud-breaking sun releases sound from silence.

*

—so, do I see? should I see? now…I’m just a guy, nothing special…but that’s a skeleton, there’s a RANT, this is a drink, and here’s a cigarette…and here you are my friend…these are the things that follow me…well, I’m about done here—

Next Chapter: The Night and the Gathering