A Vision of Devolution
A Vision of Devolution
The
sun descends into the golden smoke on the horizon. It has gotten redder and
redder now for years, and its age is nearing apocalypse. My train is a bolt of lightning
racing alongside this aging bomb.
Oh
sitarji, play your refrain of devolution.
No
idea who will remain when its all over, but I am sure as a divine pillar of
light that there will be music.
So sitarji,
Pyari, bend the meend and let out your refrain of fearsome thunder. Oh tablaji,
rumble as the sun reddens for the finale.
The
air in my train is from Jerusalem, carrying the scent of dew and myrtle, all flying
as a bolt of lightning into the East, down the mountains, all the way to India,
and from there into the Final Sea.
The
sitarji bends the refrain with all his might.
The
message of devolution could not be clearer.
The
finale is here, approaching the chakardar tihai with thundering drums.
From
devolution to revolution to Peace.
Sitarji,
Tablaji: sitar player and drummer
Meend:
bending a note on sitar
Pyar:
beloved
Chakardar
Tihai: an elaborate finale sequence on Indian tabla drums
Inspiration here
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