The old man sat alone in his room at the nursing home listening to the radio.  He tried to find a station that played his favorite kind of music, but couldn’t find one.  All he heard was what was popular.  The stations have to make money, so they have to cater to big business that can afford to keep them on the air.  What appealed to him didn’t appeal to the majority of the people.  He was computer illiterate, so he couldn’t download his favorite music.  Instead, he was forced to listen to what the majority listened to.
When he finally heard his favorite kind of music, he was ecstatic.  From hopelessness to euphoria he arose.  He felt like dancing around the room, but was too old for that.  But in
his heart, he danced the whole night through.  He felt like a bird that had just flown out the door of its cage and took to the skies.  He couldn’t explain to his friends how he felt, because they weren’t as sensitized to that style of music as he was.  All of his life he couldn’t explain his inner feelings to anyone; that some music does fill him with joy and some doesn’t.  Nobody could sympathize with him, because they couldn’t truly feel what he felt.  

All through his life his heart
Has been a glowing container
Fashioned by the sacred hands
Of the Almighty, his creator
Ignited by a mysterious sound
A certain discerning flame that
Burns brighter as the harmony
Grows more beautiful and intense
It climbs deeper into the  
Caverns of his abandoned soul
Emptied out by a fading torch
Ignited by popular demand
When he hears that certain sound
That refined sound that the
Creator sent to him
He comes to life again
As if God wanted him
Preserve and recreate that beauty
Before it becomes lost
In that maze called “Mainstream.”

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