A man sits alone at the crossroad. The bells begin to chime, and there is no sign of the devil. His gentle guitar rest silently by his side. The deep night freezes for a moment, but the wind keeps of flowing, and flows still. No hell’s gates have been opened. And what does the blues man feel? Some regret, or maybe some relief? Maybe God above has given him a chance to keep his soul. Or maybe the devil has other business to take care of. Or maybe it was all a legend, and all the blues man can find in a crossroad at midnight in Mississippi, is himself. And that, my friends, tells a lot about us bluesmen. Maybe all we were looking for was ourselves. But how do we find us? Where do we start looking? I guess it is then when we start playing the blues. We play the blues to find ourselves. We play the blues to tell a story, we give them many names and many characters, but in the end, it is just ourselves, a mortal soul and a guitar. Walking hand in hand under the blazing sun, under thunder and rain.
That’s why we sing the blues, why we play the blues, why we get the blues. To remind ourselves of who we are. Who we are without make up and disguises. We strip the soul in a twelve bar blues under a sunny afternoon. We are all blues, we are one everlasting blues. We have our ups and downs. We can be the Stones one day, and a Howling Wolf the next, cause in the end, they are the same. We are all so similar, all so fragile and broken. That’s why I play the blues when the night comes and you are not here. That’s why I play the blues every time my souls is shattered or enlightened. It is me who I play to. It is me who plays to create a mirror. That’s why I play the blues when the cold comes and you are not here to warm me. So I don’t feel so alone. So a gentle guitar can sing to me, even if all she can sing is my own words. It is better than walking alone in the streets, praying for rain to come. That’s why I play the blues when I cry over memories that every passing day bury themselves deeper in the mist. So I can say I know pain, and therefor I have known joy. That’s why i play the blues when I see you part ways from my side, so I can remember the joy of your presence near me. That’s why I play a Midnight Blues, to carry you to sleep, while I tell you who I am, and that I love you.
No, I never found the devil in a crossroad at midnight in Mississippi nor in Louisiana. I just found myself playing the blues. I just found my self, loving you.
Simplemente maravilloso, te amo.