My Dreams Are Realized
My Dreams Are Realized
It isn't an obsession. Never was, never will be. I sometimes acknowledge it to be that for some people just don't understand the magnitude, nor the meaning behind my thoughts, words and actions.
It all started at the age of four. I was so young, pure and innocent. Unknowing of the dangers and evils in the world. When it wasn't my siblings keeping me entertained and out of the hair of everyone else, it was the television. Television, an easy object to lure young minds. It's so easy to get lost in. The visuals are hypnotic, keeping your attention stilled to it and it alone. Cartoons, kiddie shows and kiddie movies were all that lay around in my knowledge of the television.
The family were music hounds. Lived for it, thrived on it's sounds, it's beats, the rhythm. I knew of music as something to hear on the radio. Something that lulled me to sleep every night, kept me quiet during the day. Gave me something to sing or dance to. Something I even listened to when mindlessly playing about my art sets, wasting the day away, only as a child knows how to do.
That was when I first heard him. His voice stood out from all of the mundane rock and roll songs that aired on the local station. His voice was so unique, so soothing and uplifting. Even when I would come upstairs feeling sad or lonely, hearing his voice was all I needed. It may as well been the equivalent of everything will be okay.
I knew not who he was, the band he was in, why he sang, why he did this, why he did that. It was all beyond my comprehension. I had nothing to go by, no band, no name, no face. Nothing. And I was perfectly fine with that. I needed not that knowledge, only his talented voice. Little did I know, I would soon find out who he was.
Music channels were a new concept to me. Foreign. I was astonished and amazed that the television could play music and let you see the band. Mother was going about daily chores and housecleaning. Colouring books and crayons kept me occupied for the most part. The television was stuck on a music channel, something for mother to listen to while she tidied up.
The first few notes of that wonderful song from the radio played and I plopped myself right down in front of the television. I finally saw the man behind the voice, the band he played with. He wore a large dark jacket, dark pants, had a bandana of sorts tied around his neck, earrings and his hair tied loosely back. Strands of his hair were hanging down a little, carefree. The picture starts out in black and white but once the song gets into full swing, colours begin to flow and jump right out of the screen at your very eyes.
He sings his heart out, acting out towards the camera at times with the lyrics to the song. His bandmates following along, one with a guitar, strumming his heart away whilst walking around. The drummer and bassist stick towards one another, also singing out. But his voice is the one we hear. The one that made me smile everytime I heard it. The one that was there for me to hold me up and keep me from shattering at the hands of the evil in this world.
I grew older and it was proven wrong as a phase. His voice continued to work magic on me. I could come home feeling my absolute worst and all I needed was to hear his voice. See his smile. And everything was okay. I needed nothing more, nothing less.
This man, he preaches what he believes in as if it were his very own life. Pouring out his heart and soul for the benefit of others. He fights for what is right in the world. Gives hope when there can be no more hope in the world. He makes anything possible. His own life. The very experiences he endured throughout his many years, serve as wisdom and knowledge. He has seen and done a lot in his life, been through a lot. Yet he keeps it all together. Keeps everything together. He keeps everything alright.
He makes everything okay. He isn't just some obsession. He isn't some rockstar phase. He is the missing piece of the puzzle, my puzzle. The ever-so intricate puzzle of life. His inspiring words and actions, his voice, his feelings. The very essence that keeps me together, where the glue and tape of false promises and friendships, fail.
Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized
It all started at the age of four. I was so young, pure and innocent. Unknowing of the dangers and evils in the world. When it wasn't my siblings keeping me entertained and out of the hair of everyone else, it was the television. Television, an easy object to lure young minds. It's so easy to get lost in. The visuals are hypnotic, keeping your attention stilled to it and it alone. Cartoons, kiddie shows and kiddie movies were all that lay around in my knowledge of the television.
The family were music hounds. Lived for it, thrived on it's sounds, it's beats, the rhythm. I knew of music as something to hear on the radio. Something that lulled me to sleep every night, kept me quiet during the day. Gave me something to sing or dance to. Something I even listened to when mindlessly playing about my art sets, wasting the day away, only as a child knows how to do.
That was when I first heard him. His voice stood out from all of the mundane rock and roll songs that aired on the local station. His voice was so unique, so soothing and uplifting. Even when I would come upstairs feeling sad or lonely, hearing his voice was all I needed. It may as well been the equivalent of everything will be okay.
I knew not who he was, the band he was in, why he sang, why he did this, why he did that. It was all beyond my comprehension. I had nothing to go by, no band, no name, no face. Nothing. And I was perfectly fine with that. I needed not that knowledge, only his talented voice. Little did I know, I would soon find out who he was.
Music channels were a new concept to me. Foreign. I was astonished and amazed that the television could play music and let you see the band. Mother was going about daily chores and housecleaning. Colouring books and crayons kept me occupied for the most part. The television was stuck on a music channel, something for mother to listen to while she tidied up.
The first few notes of that wonderful song from the radio played and I plopped myself right down in front of the television. I finally saw the man behind the voice, the band he played with. He wore a large dark jacket, dark pants, had a bandana of sorts tied around his neck, earrings and his hair tied loosely back. Strands of his hair were hanging down a little, carefree. The picture starts out in black and white but once the song gets into full swing, colours begin to flow and jump right out of the screen at your very eyes.
He sings his heart out, acting out towards the camera at times with the lyrics to the song. His bandmates following along, one with a guitar, strumming his heart away whilst walking around. The drummer and bassist stick towards one another, also singing out. But his voice is the one we hear. The one that made me smile everytime I heard it. The one that was there for me to hold me up and keep me from shattering at the hands of the evil in this world.
I grew older and it was proven wrong as a phase. His voice continued to work magic on me. I could come home feeling my absolute worst and all I needed was to hear his voice. See his smile. And everything was okay. I needed nothing more, nothing less.
This man, he preaches what he believes in as if it were his very own life. Pouring out his heart and soul for the benefit of others. He fights for what is right in the world. Gives hope when there can be no more hope in the world. He makes anything possible. His own life. The very experiences he endured throughout his many years, serve as wisdom and knowledge. He has seen and done a lot in his life, been through a lot. Yet he keeps it all together. Keeps everything together. He keeps everything alright.
He makes everything okay. He isn't just some obsession. He isn't some rockstar phase. He is the missing piece of the puzzle, my puzzle. The ever-so intricate puzzle of life. His inspiring words and actions, his voice, his feelings. The very essence that keeps me together, where the glue and tape of false promises and friendships, fail.
Sleep
Sleep tonight
And may your dreams
Be realized