In the days when hyenas of hate suckle the babes of men, and jackals of hypocrisy pimp their mothers’ broken hearts, may children not look to demons of ignorance for hope.

Time (again, Time) like the soul, wears many faces, many bodies and climates and attitudes. The past is one face, the present a second and the future yet another.

Art gives its vision to beauty not always recognized. And it surrenders freely -- whatever power it possesses to every sincere soul that seeks it. But above all else--it presents us with the gift of ourselves.

Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.

Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.

The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.

Christmas When Music Almost Killed the World