A New Guitar was invented which creates kaleidoscopic images of the sounds allowing the musician to paint the sky.
Well, the inventor of this instrument found a couple talented players to go on tour and demonstrate this Sonic Sight.
The musicians toured around the cities and countryside displaying their virtuosity in music and light. And at last they came to a small village where they performed. The villagers were all amazed and the oldest man in the village said, “You must be of the gods. For surely no mortals can create such displays.” 😎
The musicians being humbled by their struggles to become so skilled graciously accepted his praise and began to pack their Sonic Sights and head home when they man pleaded with them.
“You must take a student from our village to learn how to create this art,” they said.
The musicians agreed and the village chose a young boy named Marshall to go to the city to learn how to paint with sound and light.
The boy never having been far from his village, was apprehensive, but the villagers all gave their blessings and contributed money to support him while he learned this mysterious instrument.
The boy accompanied the musicians to the city and found a small room to let with a family near the city center. 😎😓
His teacher gave him a very simple melody to play and Marshall could easily play the correct notes in the correct time and was eager to move on the to sky painting, but when he played the melody, the maestro said, “it’s correct but there is no feeling. You must feel the music. You must be the music. Tomorrow we try again.”
The boy went home and practiced very hard until he was sure he had it right.
But the next day when he played, the maestro was even harsher.
“You play like rotting wood, no life in this melody. I feel nothing but boredom,” he said.
So the boy went home and practiced some more. He played the melody fast and slow and in between. He played it in different registers and different keys. He knew that the maestro would be impressed, but when he went for his next lesson and the maestro asked him to play the melody, he didn’t even get to finish. “No, there is no feeling. Stop. Come back next week. Must be the music. Those notes you play are out of key and besides they have no melody. Your paintings I could do when I was three.”
Now the boy was getting angry and frustrated. He was more the angry he was furious.
“What does this guy know anyway?” he said, “he came to my village now I’m here among strangers and he has me playing the same damn tune everyday.”
So the boy didn’t show up for his next lesson. He wandered around the city instead. He watched the fisherman pulling in their nets and he saw the people selling vegetables in the market and he met some people who slept under the stars and he decided this was a better life for him, away from the critical eyes of a maestro who caused the boy to hate something he once loved.
When he returned for his next lesson, the maestro stopped him again and said, “
I think you need to let it be or rather go for you have no insight into the mystery of this mystery. The Sonic Sight is not for you, see you’ll have to go, please be gone today by two.”
Marshall headed on his way though he had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to go back where he came from: “Where’s the Sonic Sight? Where’s the light?”
“I do not know, the maestro let me go.”
So Marshall headed out to sea. He got a job on a fishing boat. He watched the sky and watched the birds. He travelled far and wide.
He listened to the conversations on the boat. He befriended a bird or two and soon a flock followed the boat from port to port where they flew overhead in formations and took solo dives and loop de loops.
“These birds are following you and crapping on the deck, you’ll have to find another gig or another boat instead,” the captain said.
So Marshall headed back to town where he played pool and hung around smoking reefer with the boys and then discovered girls.
“I don’t need to play and paint just listening to stories about times at sea is good enough for me,” he thought to himself.
So he lived near the dock helping out loading and unloading cargo.
He wrote his mom and said,
“I’m workin on the loadin’ dock.
That Sonic Sight was just a crock.
Please write me when you can.
And give my best to my brother Stan.”
Brother Stan wrote himself.
“What happened to the Sonic Sight?
You are a painter of the light!
This magic art is no easy feat.
Do not lose heart, have faith!”
This brother would not hear him out.
“Do not have a doubt. You are a sky painter.
This life of loading on the dock is not your way.
Some patience and some faith will surely help you out.”
So Marshall wrote and said,
“Well you see the maestro kicked me out. He said I didn’t have the gift only a special few can paint the night like this. I played out of key and the colors ran, I could not make the make the night sky flash with pictures of rainbows and giraffes like the maestro can. I made some lightning flash and created squeaks and squeals. So he sent me on my way. I must say, I was not sad to go. The Sonic Sight I pawned somewhere, so you see this sky painting ain’t for me. They sent the wrong guy.”
When brother Stan and mother heard, they did not believe a word.
“Marshall has a way will sky painting you and I will see.
He’ll be back one day and I hope to see rainbows and a purple dragon in the sky.
Don’t ask me why but I got a feeling that Marshall is just in a rut,” his mother said.
Years passed.
Many moons were born and died.
As Marshall made his way working on the day and spending time at night playing pool and telling jokes.
Until one day a crate broke open on the dock and there it lay, a Sonic Sight from far away.
“Hey Marshall take a look, don’t you know how to play the Sonic Sight...?”
“I do know a thing or two but the Maestro said I was no good, I don’t have that magic touch.”
But this man decided he would help the Sonic Sight.
“I’ll find a way to make him play, I know he has the secret key to unlock this mystery.”
So he hatched a plan.
“Let’s go campin’, I got a van.”
So a crew headed to a coastal town with a beach that has white sand.
They made a fire and grilled some food and passed the jug around.
Once they were all toasty and drunk he said,
“Hey Marshall won’t you play?
I kept the Sonic Sight until this day.
Won’t you give us a display of light
to get us through this lonesome Night?”
“A note or two is all I ask.
I promise I won’t harass,
but only ask for a note or two
some painting in the sky.”
Though he hadn’t played in years.
He still had fingers, eyes and ears.
“What the hell, I’ll give it a try.”
So he picked it up and struck a note and some colors began to float. But no image could he make, only kaleidoscopic shapes and wavy lines of color in the nighttime sky.
As he played his friends were amazed.
“You can paint the night with the Sonic Sight!”
“You should be in a band touring all across the land.”
“Who knew you could play like this?”
“It’s nothing, see the Maestro could make figures of horses and giraffes, but I can only paint the night with shapes and lines of light.
“Did you see the flash and hear the boom? You are an artist of the night. Do not listen to what the Maestro said. A Maestro is not always right.”
It was late and they let him be but as they lay out on the beach, Marshall lay on his back looking into the darkness with the guitar across his chest.
They made another request.
“Can you play another tune?”
“Not tonight it’s late, let us get some rest,” Marshall said.
When they drove back to town nobody spoke of the night display, but the Oh on the trip told the other guys on the dock and at the pub and soon people where asking Marshall: “Is it true? Can you paint the nighttime sky?”
“Well, not exactly,” Marshall said
But they wouldn’t let Marshall be, so he figured it was his fate and began to stay up super late to play the Sonic Sight when his comrades were in bed.
He sat on the dock after work after the sun went down while his friends ate and told stories at the pub.
He couldn’t make the pictures that the maestro did, but he said “I will play my own way instead.”
Just then lighting flashed in the sky followed by a thunderous boom.
A jam session had begun.
He began to play with the storm.
Lighting flashed and in reply Marshall produced colors in the sky.
The sounds were new and colors burst in the night.
He began to feel a new delight for the art that brought him to this dreary port.
He played and played all through the night matching each flash and thunderous boom with colors of red and yellow and green and blue. When he at last stood up to head on home he saw his friends from work had gathered on the deck watching everything he did.
“You are the sky painter!” they said,
“No one can do what you just did.”
So his life began again, this time as a traveling man. He went about from town to town playing the Sonic Sight painting colors in the night to the delight of all folks who said, “you gotta check him out.”
He didn't let their words go to his head, but always said, “I’m not the best, but I just play what I feel and that’s good enough for me.”
The musicians being humbled by their struggles to become so skilled graciously accepted his praise and began to pack their Sonic Sights and head home when they man pleaded with them.
“You must take a student from our village to learn how to create this art,” they said.
The musicians agreed and the village chose a young boy named Marshall to go to the city to learn how to paint with sound and light.
The boy never having been far from his village, was apprehensive, but the villagers all gave their blessings and contributed money to support him while he learned this mysterious instrument.
The boy accompanied the musicians to the city and found a small room to let with a family near the city center. 😎😓
His teacher gave him a very simple melody to play and Marshall could easily play the correct notes in the correct time and was eager to move on the to sky painting, but when he played the melody, the maestro said, “it’s correct but there is no feeling. You must feel the music. You must be the music. Tomorrow we try again.”
The boy went home and practiced very hard until he was sure he had it right.
But the next day when he played, the maestro was even harsher.
“You play like rotting wood, no life in this melody. I feel nothing but boredom,” he said.
So the boy went home and practiced some more. He played the melody fast and slow and in between. He played it in different registers and different keys. He knew that the maestro would be impressed, but when he went for his next lesson and the maestro asked him to play the melody, he didn’t even get to finish. “No, there is no feeling. Stop. Come back next week. Must be the music. Those notes you play are out of key and besides they have no melody. Your paintings I could do when I was three.”
Now the boy was getting angry and frustrated. He was more the angry he was furious.
“What does this guy know anyway?” he said, “he came to my village now I’m here among strangers and he has me playing the same damn tune everyday.”
So the boy didn’t show up for his next lesson. He wandered around the city instead. He watched the fisherman pulling in their nets and he saw the people selling vegetables in the market and he met some people who slept under the stars and he decided this was a better life for him, away from the critical eyes of a maestro who caused the boy to hate something he once loved.
When he returned for his next lesson, the maestro stopped him again and said, “
I think you need to let it be or rather go for you have no insight into the mystery of this mystery. The Sonic Sight is not for you, see you’ll have to go, please be gone today by two.”
Marshall headed on his way though he had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to go back where he came from: “Where’s the Sonic Sight? Where’s the light?”
“I do not know, the maestro let me go.”
So Marshall headed out to sea. He got a job on a fishing boat. He watched the sky and watched the birds. He travelled far and wide.
He listened to the conversations on the boat. He befriended a bird or two and soon a flock followed the boat from port to port where they flew overhead in formations and took solo dives and loop de loops.
“These birds are following you and crapping on the deck, you’ll have to find another gig or another boat instead,” the captain said.
So Marshall headed back to town where he played pool and hung around smoking reefer with the boys and then discovered girls.
“I don’t need to play and paint just listening to stories about times at sea is good enough for me,” he thought to himself.
So he lived near the dock helping out loading and unloading cargo.
He wrote his mom and said,
“I’m workin on the loadin’ dock.
That Sonic Sight was just a crock.
Please write me when you can.
And give my best to my brother Stan.”
Brother Stan wrote himself.
“What happened to the Sonic Sight?
You are a painter of the light!
This magic art is no easy feat.
Do not lose heart, have faith!”
This brother would not hear him out.
“Do not have a doubt. You are a sky painter.
This life of loading on the dock is not your way.
Some patience and some faith will surely help you out.”
So Marshall wrote and said,
“Well you see the maestro kicked me out. He said I didn’t have the gift only a special few can paint the night like this. I played out of key and the colors ran, I could not make the make the night sky flash with pictures of rainbows and giraffes like the maestro can. I made some lightning flash and created squeaks and squeals. So he sent me on my way. I must say, I was not sad to go. The Sonic Sight I pawned somewhere, so you see this sky painting ain’t for me. They sent the wrong guy.”
When brother Stan and mother heard, they did not believe a word.
“Marshall has a way will sky painting you and I will see.
He’ll be back one day and I hope to see rainbows and a purple dragon in the sky.
Don’t ask me why but I got a feeling that Marshall is just in a rut,” his mother said.
Years passed.
Many moons were born and died.
As Marshall made his way working on the day and spending time at night playing pool and telling jokes.
Until one day a crate broke open on the dock and there it lay, a Sonic Sight from far away.
“Hey Marshall take a look, don’t you know how to play the Sonic Sight...?”
“I do know a thing or two but the Maestro said I was no good, I don’t have that magic touch.”
But this man decided he would help the Sonic Sight.
“I’ll find a way to make him play, I know he has the secret key to unlock this mystery.”
So he hatched a plan.
“Let’s go campin’, I got a van.”
So a crew headed to a coastal town with a beach that has white sand.
They made a fire and grilled some food and passed the jug around.
Once they were all toasty and drunk he said,
“Hey Marshall won’t you play?
I kept the Sonic Sight until this day.
Won’t you give us a display of light
to get us through this lonesome Night?”
“A note or two is all I ask.
I promise I won’t harass,
but only ask for a note or two
some painting in the sky.”
Though he hadn’t played in years.
He still had fingers, eyes and ears.
“What the hell, I’ll give it a try.”
So he picked it up and struck a note and some colors began to float. But no image could he make, only kaleidoscopic shapes and wavy lines of color in the nighttime sky.
As he played his friends were amazed.
“You can paint the night with the Sonic Sight!”
“You should be in a band touring all across the land.”
“Who knew you could play like this?”
“It’s nothing, see the Maestro could make figures of horses and giraffes, but I can only paint the night with shapes and lines of light.
“Did you see the flash and hear the boom? You are an artist of the night. Do not listen to what the Maestro said. A Maestro is not always right.”
It was late and they let him be but as they lay out on the beach, Marshall lay on his back looking into the darkness with the guitar across his chest.
They made another request.
“Can you play another tune?”
“Not tonight it’s late, let us get some rest,” Marshall said.
When they drove back to town nobody spoke of the night display, but the Oh on the trip told the other guys on the dock and at the pub and soon people where asking Marshall: “Is it true? Can you paint the nighttime sky?”
“Well, not exactly,” Marshall said
But they wouldn’t let Marshall be, so he figured it was his fate and began to stay up super late to play the Sonic Sight when his comrades were in bed.
He sat on the dock after work after the sun went down while his friends ate and told stories at the pub.
He couldn’t make the pictures that the maestro did, but he said “I will play my own way instead.”
Just then lighting flashed in the sky followed by a thunderous boom.
A jam session had begun.
He began to play with the storm.
Lighting flashed and in reply Marshall produced colors in the sky.
The sounds were new and colors burst in the night.
He began to feel a new delight for the art that brought him to this dreary port.
He played and played all through the night matching each flash and thunderous boom with colors of red and yellow and green and blue. When he at last stood up to head on home he saw his friends from work had gathered on the deck watching everything he did.
“You are the sky painter!” they said,
“No one can do what you just did.”
So his life began again, this time as a traveling man. He went about from town to town playing the Sonic Sight painting colors in the night to the delight of all folks who said, “you gotta check him out.”
He didn't let their words go to his head, but always said, “I’m not the best, but I just play what I feel and that’s good enough for me.”
