Snow falls thickly around the luthier's little shop. Quiet music trickles beneath snow, the stream which nurtures the walnut tree not yet frozen. Icicles form winter's beard, reminding us of gravity's inevitability.
Against twilight's cool blue and purple, warm yellows spill from windows across snowdrifts, revealing electricity — energy — that rips through copper wires and crackles metaphorically around this guitar builder's brain. Life is heat, without which we find only death's dark grip.
Here, there is life. Light. Creation.
Inside, walnut wood shavings form fluffy drifts, building in corners. Glittering scraps of titanium sparkle by booted toes. Coltrane blasts in countermelody to the rhythmic grind of muscle against metal.
What elves, these?
Music is peace. Even violent music is peace, extracted from gordian knotted neurons. Anger made audible, a manifesto of love, expression quelling action...perhaps the need for action.
Alone, we are scattered filings. Together we cluster around magnet ends, revealing those polarities and invisible powers that manipulate us.
My nation is momentarily lost, seeking peace through perpetual war, "protection" through repression and unfair redistribution of earned rewards. It will take a great and collective effort of kindness and willpower to remind our political oligarchy their duty to us. We do not work for them.
Peace is powerful.
The time to begin is now.
To those who have shared your life with me this year, I wish you peace. Peace and prosperity to you, and your family. To those who will share your life with me next year, I bid you welcome. Let us seek peace together, through music.