Every bead of sweat that drps from the peak of my nose embodies the raw energy held in each musical note. Perspiration runs from my face and falls upon my bass-- staining the screaming red finish. The world of music ruthlessly surrounds me; it is more than welcome in my arms.

Swaing to and fro, my eyes closed, my head back, the heat raditaing from the work put forth by my body and mind, the music comes to me, from me, for me. The place that surrounds me; I cannot call it a room. It is a universe, each star radiating with an everlastin intensity-- entitiling each to its own individuality.

It is said that you can't physically touch upon an abstract thing such as music-- yet I can feel it as I play. My calloused fingers are the backbones of the tomes, and my head is the steadfast general of the accompanying musical armada. Marching headfirst, one by one, the low ends of my bass travel, igniting the still air.

And as the stage lights illuminate the once invisible war beaten path between the stage and the musician, I find myself playing in front of a crowd I was once part of-- I watch the crowd as I play. I know that the vigorous vibrations venting throughtout the air shake an individuals soul as much as the notes do mine. Thunderous and bold, they forever move onward.