Philosphia (Open to the Public)

[JONATHAN NATHANIEL CLARK]

When we’re young we set our hearts upon some beautiful idea
Maybe something from a holy book or French philosophia
Upon the thoughts of better men than us we swear by and decree a
Perfect way to end the war of ways the only way to be a…

"...A work of art..." Perched on a picnic table, Jon was strumming. It was later in the day, but the sun was still up, haunted by clouds, but still hanging on. The man was people-watching, getting a read on what would soon be their audience. Assortments of colors and faces, piercings, shoes, sleeves, tattoos, spikes, dyes and other bids for individuality slipped by, not too far away. Jon had the benefit of being from a band that wasn't too well known, and being the bassist at that. His name was barely known, his autograph seldom requested, and this left him free to wander about without being accosted.

He'd borrowed David's acoustic guitar from the luggage. The guitarist wouldn't notice it missing for hours, if it all. It had needed tuning after the hours of travel, but the brand was nice, so once he'd calmed the flats and sharps, the guitar played beautifully. Jon only knew the basic chords, but it was more portable that hauling his bass and an amplifier around, and less tacky to boot.

The bassist mumbled the lyrics out, lowly, quietly, head bobbing as he navigated the Guggenheim Grotto song. "Oh to be a work of art."

His stomach was grumbling, telling him it was time to exchange some per diems for sustenance.

But in time a thought comes tugging on the sleeve edge of our minds
Perhaps no perfect way exists at all, just many different kinds
Oh but if it’s just a thing of taste then everything unwinds
For without an absolute how can the absolute define…

A work of art?

[/sub][/color]