What is left?

Beyond the adoration, the devotion, the musing, the wonder and the awe?

Beyond inspiration, heartache, double rainbow bliss and tranquil lush serenity?

When your madrigal rock God has drawn you in, seared your soul, rend asunder your heart, and rocked your fist pumping, boot stomping, ear blasting mind, and still your desire burns, what is left?

It is futile to claim those grapes sour. Clearly they are plump, sweet, and juicy.

It is even more futile to attempt to create your own beauty in His image.

Imagine the pain and humiliation of his own brother, toiling in Matt's shadow in Trip Shakespeare, breaking away to pop acclaim, only to be  eclipsed by Burnt, White, & Blue. And then to garner the award of a Grammy, only to return to the glory and splendor of Stereo Night.

It is not fair.

But as my grandmother always replied when anyone cried that life is not fair; "Of course it's not fair, the fair is on Snelling."

So when desire remains unquenched, and coextensive art is unattainable, what is left?

Since we can not aspire...

And we will not relent...

we are...