I heard a song on the radio. Its sound was bigger than its
lyrics. It was like a finely crafted box of the highest quality, whose maker
had imagined it filled with beautiful, meaningful things, but whose owners had
inexplicably chosen to fill it with a few broken crayons, some
candy wrappers and a hair scrunchy. This song was like that.
It had a driving beat and complex layers of sound that danced
and flirted before harmonizing into a beautifully simple symphony. However, as
I gazed in at the lyrical contents I was sad to find that they were not
beautiful or meaningful or worthy. They were not even sufficiently cryptic that
I could see in them whatever I wanted to see.
Giftedness is only as good as the cause it serves.
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