The real guitar exists within your mind –
No-one is the Maker
But soul and sweat of experience
The beautiful terrible memories –
If you allow all this into your hands
Your fingertips and grip – it is no matter
Maestro if you fail as a musician
Whatever you touch will bloom
Because such simple discipline
Brings you to the unity of all things
Patience with persistent application –
These are not among the modern virtues
And what are they but crass desire of fame?
This wood and wire you call your instrument
This Gibson Goldtop 1954 –
I’ll take it with me now to pay your drug debts
MARCUS AURELIUS ANONYMOUS
Misfortune follows those who crave
Exposure to inordinate attention
For whom the notorieties of fame
Are never quite enough
But they persist to make themselves
Lightning rods unsheathed
Attracting every passing storm
Electric with celebrity
‘Give me shelter’ some will say
‘Shelter from the storm’
I dedicate to them my ‘Meditations’ –
Where the eye of the storm is still
Bernard Saint
Image: Claire Palmer