Truth, Tales

A Collaborative

[aaron-david]

A song of old, a tale written but scarcely told. Now twisted around a new voice, venerated by way of winds washing through our souls and out our mouths. She bares my lone escape, i attempt to be the path upon her landscape. 

Go on and say what you wanna say                                                                      I’ll bare your load, I’ll be your escape                                                                Come on and be what you wanna be                                                                 Don’t hide your hands in the pockets of your jeans

That bitter breeze may never change                                                                  But i promise you my love is here to stay                                                           We have dreams that last a lifetime in this home                                               When we were young we shared the fireside glow,                                                 Many winters ago 

You keep your heart just out of reach                                                                Share your secrets, confide in me                                                                           I’ll keep my arms open                                                                                         Leave all your tears on my shoulder

Our tongues have told many tales                                                                         We are older but still unfolding                                                                           Our treasure weighs more than the heaviest stone... we can’t carry it on our own

Go on and say what you wanna say                                                                        I’ll bare your load (I’ll bare your lone escape) I’ll be your escape

How is it that we live so long and act so short. We are all tied to something, but to rope each other together is an eternal act of hope. To take on someones messy attempt to make your life better while offering them your version of that same thing - it’s fruitful. Whose idea was it to call independence success?

[aaron-david]

I see an age where generosity can be the most common social exchange. Where community can be built upon honour. Where gifts are recognized. Where fear of others is abandoned and waves of freedom wash our people, our land. Where contribution isn’t measured in dollar value.  Where the inner self of every soul is showcased with such sensitive simplicity that we forget what it is to put on a mask or hide a gun under the belt.

Are melodies and brush strokes,  conversations and gestures, too small a contribution? No. That is like asking if the sky adds anything to the appearance of each day. Each component composes the whole.  

What is your brush stroke in the sky, your single note amidst this grand composition?

  -Aaron David’

[aaron-david]

A moment aside, another to push the prayer over pride.

[aaron-david]

I sit and attempt to pen my emotions through the sound of my guitar. Perhaps my first predicament. A piano plays in the next room. Its a beautiful melody, but it clashes with mine.

I resonate with this man half-in-shadow, he has drawn in and prepared his lips his fingers his stance, he even hears the note he is about to play - clear and clean. But on the brink, the precipice of sound.. he waits. For there is not a space between noise and voices with width enough to let out his sound.

“And if there were, such a space,  at last.. should i fill it?” he asks. “If, like you, when silence cues, i quickly speak to keep distraction in the air, i do not truly hear or fear our fate as i should. When i produce this premeditated musical weight - i wish for silence to to ride its wake”

Picture by Hazel Soan

[aaron-david]

Today, tremolo to trees peaking through half open doors, winds thieving silence but gently adorning my demeanor my desk with a thought. Pages of pencil, present and evolving, washed with the sound of strings through tweed covered speakers that sing.

Oh i feel so slow to run at your word                              to let myself go

oh i feel like a ghost reaching out to heaven but i never come close

So reveal yourself, show that graciousness i know you have a wealth of

No longer stay withheld but help me with this hand that you dealt

Pull me out of purgatory i know its not where i should be

Pull me out encircle me in your love, your love is my need

How painful is it, to be in a state of being that ties you neither here nor there, to be so untethered you cant take any steps forward because your feet aren’t on the ground, to be so displaced your own voice is an unfamiliar sound. What happens to the soul in such a state? - ”Pull me out... pull me out”.