ba duh ba duh ba duh

Ba-duh ba-duh ba-duh


So simple, really. A simple beat. To dance to, to sing to, to march in line to. A beat to close your eyes amongst crowds of people but still hear them, feel them, because we all have that same beat.

ba-duh ba-duh ba-duh

Good music comes from the soul, touches your soul. Makes it go ba-duh ba-duh ba-duh.

When that beat stops...you know it's over.... but when you've been hearing it for so long, your mind plays tricks on you. You still hear it. Ba-duh, ba-duh, ba-duh.

But vacant, glassy eyes, a chest not rising and falling like it should, no expression of recognition to a familiar sound...all of these things tell me there is no more ba-duh ba-duh ba-duh. No more music to dance to, to feed your soul.

And when a desperately sad voice confirms that there is no beat, well then, there is no soul. At least not one you can feel anymore.
Gone.
Silent.

And maybe part of your soul went out with that last beat. A little bit of it may have just slipped away, because why else would you feel so empty. So silent.

Too many deaths in too few days. Three more beats now missing from this world. All reasonably unexpected and yet expected because, after all, we are all just waiting to die. And yet we still have so much trouble coping with these things. It's still just too hard.

Like it should be.

Life's (death's) twisted way of reminding us that we are no better than any other living thing on this dear planet. So for a few moments of time, after that beat is gone, we appreciate our mortality.

Like we should.
(But perhaps more often.)

Turn your radios up. Embrace the beat, and of course, each other.