The Solo

It was the feeling of the strings gliding against the tips of my fingers, the vibration of the drums beating right behind me. The pressure of the air, waving on in organized rhythmic waves around the back of my ears and being sucked straight through to my brain, I could feel the beat in my head, then my spine, then my body. It was the rumble of the bass that gave us all a ground to stand on, shaky as it was, we rocked along with it in perfect timing, back and forth, back and forth. It was the placelessness i was in that mesmerized me as I realized I could see myself standing right in front of me, watching my hands caress the fretboard of my 1970 epstein sunburst electric guitar, and tenderly I guided myself over the progression of unity that held the wandering band of souls together. It was then that i took off over myself, over the band, over the crowd as a melody poured out of my hands and onto the floor. Then, as it pooled in front of me, a figure started to emerge from the pile. It was a beautiful temptress that seduced even the coldest of hearts and melted away all sense of self so that she could enter in, and make nested in their soul, a warm bed for her musing. It was a baptism of vibration that cleansed the soul of the misfit.