In my younger years I was amazed by city lights.
From this hilltop gazing outward and downward-
The marquee signs,
a brilliant display of color, the billboards, advertising the next big thing.
All that neon, bleeding together
The way paint spills out, swirling on the ground, its serendipitous.
Looking back, I was blinded, let my eyes be mesmerized by the allure of one day seeing my own name on a marquee sign.
You see, if one is not careful, you can easily forget the reasons you picked up a guitar or wrote your first song.
I can tell you from experience if fame is your goal she is a dead end destination and people are fickle they only pay attention when you’re the one with the most attractive stage clothes and outlandish gimmicks.
Some manager comes along promising the moon, if you would only add more fire and a bigger light show, no, give them more smoke.
Then one day you wake up and your focus is all wrong, you haven’t written a new song and no one is asking for autographs because everyone has forgotten your name.