boneyard conveyor belt

I had a dream, night before last, of highways and city streets, teeming with people, buzzing with activity. The cinematic progression of the dream moved in a steady zoom, over the tops of heads, over the hoods of cars. At last people and machines gave way to an endless stretch of gravestones--a planetary Arlington.

And there, in my REM sleep, between the hours of dusk and dawn, some lingering spirit whispered enlightenment to me: "This is where it's all heading."

Suddenly I was no longer afraid. Suddenly I was no longer worried about making a mark on eternity, getting it 'right'.

What more is my life than a single note in some massive, unwieldy orchestral opus? A dotted sixteenth in the music of the spheres?

Ah, but to sound a note, just one, that has all the texture and feeling of a lifetime. Passionate, jubilant, unrestrained, free! To be a single sound in all the universe unmistakable for anything but me.

I intend to play true and then fade to dust and ash.