Music From An Old Musician

I wonder if you remember
that night in October:
we saw a red moon
and you asked me what it meant.

I wonder if you remember
that afternoon in San Gabriel:
we saw ravens flying
and you asked me what it meant.

I wonder if you remember
that morning in Hong Kong:
we saw flowers in the bay
and you asked me what it meant.

Red moons, ravens, and flowers
all brought you to this place:
where you can stop asking
unnecessary questions.

Like the song I wrote tonight
while the autumn moon rose without you:
a song that means
whatever you decide it means.

Love, or what passes for love, can pick you up and place you in the sky. Love, or whatever you've exchanged it for, can tear out your heart and make you cry. You can do this so often and so well that you learn to enjoy the tears. All of the reasons this happens are all the same reasons why you remain a prisoner in samsara's prison-without-walls. I wish I could tell you how to escape, but my own idea is that escape is unnecessary. So, the best I can do is play this little drala song outside your imaginary cell -- over and over again -- and tell you that love is a wonderful metaphor for you to examine. This I will do until you summon the courage to reach your hand through the boundary that doesn't exist, and prove to yourself that nothing is there.

Very, very auspicious wishes for you at the Mid-Autumn Festival. This is nothing very important. It really doesn't have anything to do with love. It has everything to do with being human, and this being autumn. If it makes any easier for you, please consider this just some magic from an old magician; some music from an old musician.

The song, Red Moon: Music From An Old Musician Copyright (c) 2009 by Old Rabbit Mining Co. All rights reserved.