The Grateful Dead, whether they knew it, whether they still know it, led the rockers down the backstage hall to the stage said, Here You Go, We’ve Been Here. We’re Still Here. What’s up with you these days? There are times when the point is only to keep doing what you’re doing as much as you can before it kills you. What else do we have to live for sometimes besides the art that eventually kills us? That reinvents young souls. O, such a ringing I hear now in those notes on high, sharp and deep as they are wide, misunderstood and dead-on right.
It’s no surprise most people don’t know it, didn’t understand them, didn’t get it. Whatever you want to call not digging their music, The Boys are still leading those musicians and the tin-eared oblivious to the stage to join them, Give it a try, Have a go at it, they say. I can hear them all the time while others hear nothing of it at all. I sing and dream to Robert Hunter’s lyrics. I startle awake to Weir’s slide, slip back to sleep with Garcia’s trickling and bright light; it eventually turns gray. Everything does. But what is there to give up on when all’s left to do is to keep moving forward. The Grateful Dead’s lyrics, music, their existence and influence—a craziness that love defines—was a late in the day indecision I chose to go left with love instead of turning right to discover time “will not forgive you, if you will not take a chance.”
The Grateful Dead Show—so funky and fancy plain fun. Space is a jolting, rustling warmth in the soul, and when I look to those skies, it’s hard to believe the coldness of the stars when I get lost in an opened mind set as I continue to circle this earth, above everyday life. I guess that’s what The Dead does for me: they teach me the dangers of deep space travel with no time like now to keep going, so I’ll have another day before I circle, staring below as the crazy kids dance across the world.
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The Start of Some Better Days | Esoteric Poetry | And Other Writings 