In music I heard many things, back in the days of my madness. I heard voices from other worlds, or voices from deeper in this one than we could conceivably see. I heard songs that spoke of places that never were, of people that never were, that sung of the unsung. Some music spoke to my paranoia, were of the collaborative forces that doomed me; some music lifted me as if to Heaven itself, let me float there for a few moments. There were layers in the music, sometimes where each note implied something, where words spoke things not in the lyrics, strange and different meanings sewn into what was actually being said. In music there was almost always something more than just the music — sometimes a mystery revealed, sometimes a mystery created.
Sometimes, a special significance to the song over the radio: the Battle — between good and evil, between Jesus and the Devil — the macrocosm and the microcosm: the forces above and the forces below warring for the soul of the world, and in conflict for the price of my own soul. No, the war is not being fought over the airwaves, not like what played in my wild and furious thoughts. But perhaps there is a grain there, something right about the imagination that took root in the unkempt soils of my delirium — that yes, it is happening in the world at large and within us, whether we shut our ears to it or no: good and evil contend for the world and everything in it. And we, each moment, choose one or the other — some day to know to which tune we have truly danced.
