I was out at Ponca State Park in Nebraska some years ago, camping on a really cold night. It was early spring and early for camping too, but I was living life on the edge and whatnot, wanted to get out of town, so there I was. I positioned my small tent in a slight draw to keep under the wind and got settled in and actually got some sleep. In the morning I had the usual – eggs and bread and coffee – and then I straightened things out and set off to look around the park.
From one corner of the park the doors of perception creaked open, and I could see into a couple of other states, including one wherein dwelt the Gateway computer factory, silently churning out devices to ensnare the unaware and lay the foundations of today’s present awful state of affairs. In another state I saw the peaks and spires of the castles of Mordor. I wasn’t quite awake.
I turned away and walked another path that led me to an old abandoned house, and, as per usual I decided to check it out. In one room was a double bed with a single mattress on top, speaking of a dreaded and desperate loneliness, and in another, bigger room was a piano. Time slowed and an inivisble clock tick-tocked.
It was a big old piano, an upright that must have weighed a ton. I guess over the years I started to view pianos by their tonnage after moving a lot of uprights from here to there, and as I got older it got rougher. I had a small console piano back home – a Starck made in Chicago that had a great sound – but these old pianos, corrupted by time . . . they all play great in my dreams, but here I am right now in the waking state . . .
I walked over and hit a key, and it sounded just like this:
The Everlasting Now 