Kenneth is a rural citizen of Hamilton, Ala., and has begun to observe life and certain things and people helping him to write about them.
Old Age and Talent
have their chosen souls to touch in those silent midnight sighs. Those gifted with notes of power and pomp somehow surface to where the suitable locales can listen, if only for one time, an old guitarist’ solo played with a Master’s scale—bringing the covered sadness and secrets to the awkward light of day.
I am privy to such a talented man with an humble soul who had to take to the courtsquare on a bustling daylight so clean and sharp. And although I was a child when this old guy walked carefully to the center of the courtsquare and pulled all of the God-given confidence within his tried and true fiber, and begun to sing the songs of olden times when God was the only love and protector that he knew.
The old guitarist, older than me, wore his finest rags in bowls of homemade Lye soap to preserve the guitarist’ traditions of safety, care, and respect. I watched him as he looked down as he concluded his first song—and I managed to see his lips moving ever so silently as if he were meeting God in the breath he was breathing. Then with an humble smile all aglow, he started his second song chosen to present a time when he bore a young man’s burden and stand firmly against the bitterness of ignorance that somehow cropped up around his steps and God allowed him to walk free from the tares of his life.
I Would, if I Could
publish his real name, but I choose not to, out of pure respect for the old guitarist who is still stirring his lot in life, but with a different vocation if I can use that word, but he is healthy as the eye can see—which is oh so limited, but he still maintains his walk with God with or without his guitar seen as the beaten instrument he has become. But he continues on.
Do not misunderstand or let confusion tamper your thoughts. I personally, am not a religious person, but I do have a good relationship with Jesus, God’s only son. (John 3:16). I brag not upon these filthy rags that are “my” righteousness, but I lift up Yashua’s name above this cradle of death that stalks all of us. Even the old guitarist has saw action in a few near-death struggles with his health, but today, he is very alive.
Note: The two photos that I publish on this hub are not of my Old Guitarist friend. But if he were here to look over my shoulder and see my words, he would act quickly and rebuke me for saying these things—although true. And the truth.
Thanks, Old Guitarist, for all of the songs you were able to sing and all of the words of Life that you are still lifting up high and mighty. I will always be proud to call you my “friend”
March 12, 2019____________________________________
© 2019 Kenneth Avery