Of the Philosophical Rock Singer
(In the style of a Canterbury Tale character introduction)
A solitary man joined us halfway through our trip,
and only with guitar and case did he seem equipped.
A hitchhiker he seemed to be, there standing in the rain,
but not once did anyone hear him cry out to complain.
He joined us with an honest smile, and a sad, experienced face,
and told us, if we'd wait awhile, he'd take us to a place
deep within his truest thoughts, with words and notes that rang.
His name was Geoff Magnum, and to earn his coin, he sang
of hardship and reality that enter every life,
and how hope always can be found, even under strife.
From the backwoods of the south, he came when he was young,
his family had rejected him, and to his drugs he clung.
He moved around and found a world of hardship and of pain;
it seemed the drugs he held so dear would have been his bane.
Yet strong he was of wit and soul, without completing school.
he cleansed his life and turned his grievous pains into a tool
for writing sweetest melodies of emotion and of hope,
so that he could teach others how to live and how to cope.
Thus this stretched and timid man joined our pilgrimage,
with untrimmed beard and quiet mood, and a pallid visage.
At home he seemed in travelling, 'twas all the home he knew;
he never did stay in one place, or in his dwellings stew.
He took his old guitar, several times repaired,
from his guitar case, older still, and he then prepared
to sing us the song he'd promised, as his means of fare.
The guitar was gnarled and warped, clearly cheap and old,
but the poverty of its master made it do as it was told.
As fingers plucked the Siren strings, and the singer beautifully wailed,
a parable slowly formed itself, and through the air it sailed
to each of us there listening to the singer in delight.
It told how wealth was useless in most every human plight,
with words so sweet, he taught us how hope was all we'd ever need
to pass the hardships we would face, and, in life, succeed.
Ever doubtful of himself, "It's not quite done," he said,
"I hope that it made sense; I based it on something I read."
So this hermit thinker, and philosopher to boot,
made all our present worries seem foolishly quite moot.
It seems to me this was his plan, to put our fears to rest,
and make us happy with our lives, if we try to do our best.
He takes mistakes that he had made and changes them somehow
into songs of great emotion, that apply to us right now.
This lonely, stoic singer was the wisest that we met,
for his Siren's song is singing to us yet.
- By Nick Sumner
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