Neil's 500 Miles

Five hundred miles of song and the thread of your heritage running through them all. You are wise, but you do not speak.  You let your music say it all.

You write in parables and allow the listener to enjoy the clear water that flows through the top layers, or to feast on the harvest of what lies below. You sing the Song Of Solomon, the Psalms are there and so is Job.  Your heart pens the words and your soul creates the notes.  You sing for the lonely and the downtrodden, for the lovers and the heatbroken. You sing of your past, and we remember our own.  You sing of joy and for the children.  You are the lion.

I heard it said that you once spoke of the part you play, a myth of sorts, when you become that man we see on stage, and sometimes how hard it is to keep that image up.  If you, alone, just sat and sang to us, the songs would mean the same. We cherish them and listen when your not there. The songs come from a part of you, a deep, deep place where God has laid his gift. The gift of words and music. You write for you, but you sing for us.  Your smile tells us that you hear us. We understand what you are saying.  We share your life that way. And in a sense, you share ours.  We dry our eyes and take out your songs.  We didn't write them, but we sing along.  They make this world a better, brighter place.

Your heritage has taught you well. You are wise, but you do not speak. You let your music say it all.