Rock concerts are
our religion,
transcendent festivals
high on sound,
drugged by the beat
we search for meaning,
arms raised
to the moment,
voices joined
we praise as gods
men on stage.

Look for the sadness
in their faces,
those actors
who know that
simple ecstasy
cannot last;
who know that
to sing a song
of the masses
is to be tormented
by the transitory.

But look again,
see the spark
of something more,
see the rapture
of a whole life lived
in a single moment,
complete and present
in one note,
one triumphant sound
carried by a
hundred thousand humans.

Drink deep from the
passing stream
and live,
live for beauty
and for truth
and for love,
whatever they mean.
Live for the rhythm,
the sound,
the heartbeat of
this harmony.

Grab my hand
and jump up
as the guitar
illuminates night,
look up,
fall in love
with the mess
of a meaningless life
lived with purpose.

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