And then he played

I was trapped in a pit. It was dark, deep, and terrible. 
And then he played. The notes were low and rumbling as though they were made from the pit itself. And he moaned a deep resounding reverberation that mated with the notes that he strummed on his guitar. There were no words and the notes seem to shake on forever.
The walls seemed to fall away into stairs and I was freed from the pit.

I was surrounded by darkness my eyes have not known the companionship of light.
And then he played. The notes were quick and bright and bounced from one octave to another. And through the brick black, then the murky dim, color! 
Not just color but people. And at his feet sat his wife as she listened to him play.

I was set upon by all manner of zombies, bats, and beast who all sought to end me.
And then he played. He attacked the strings as though mad with power. Vigorously jumping up and down the frets. No longer strumming at the strings but picking as though to remove some offending object. In turn, zombies to men, bats to birds, and beast to pets.
My lynching now turned gathering on a sunny day with friends play.

I'm found with the knowledge of his pain, set upon with an inability to play.
And then I wrote. What blessings I have poured into words. Then poured out. Heart and soul poured out to connect and pull power from the very quantum sea itself.
The prayer for painful times shortened and good times multiplied.

~~~~~~~~~

I doubt I have the power left alone to push my prayer. And what few people who can see this who seem to be interested in doing good for something. Then turn your attention to this man Leslie. Turn your prayers to his life. Turn your concern to his problems. He has to go through. Pray him a strong front shield. A strong flank guard. A strong right arm.

In another life he'll cook for all of us