on my daily walk through the graveyard (a beautiful, peaceful area set on the outskirts of town, where one can collect his thoughts, pay his respects, and escape the bustles of the day), I saw a man sitting on the grass strumming a guitar by an old headstone.

as a long time pupil of the instrument myself, and many years spent in this small community, my first thought was, "do I know this man?" 

so I slowed my pace as I listened, nodded, and realized by sight, "no, this is someone I do not recognize, this man I do not know".

but the lyric he played lifted itself upon the warm spring breeze and came to my ears and past, fading somewhere in the day behind me, and only after walking past and pondering the scene did it come to me: 'this man is sitting with a love past, a special kind of love that can only emit such beauty as the melody coming from his strings.'

"this man has known love," I thought, "perhaps true love".

at a quick glance one might be sad for him, feel sorrow for his loss and what pain lingers with him still. but not I. I see that this man has known riches that few on this earth will ever know, and I rejoice for him, with him, for I have seen these riches and understand the lyric he plays.

still walking on, as I smile and look to the sky with the warm March breeze washing over my face, I realize with complete certainty that our lives are entirely about our journey, not the destination.

"but oh, I do know this man." 
 I was chopping down a pine tree, when a friend stopped by to ask, if I would feel less lonely, if he helped me swing the axe. I said no, it's not a case of being lonely we have here, I've been working on this pine tree, for 87 years. He said go get lost, and walked towards his Cadillac, I chopped down the Pine tree, and it landed on his back.
What a simple and beautiful story, Jay. I heard his guitar playing through your words. Next time, hand out hankies.