Rock

The truth of the world is this — no matter how deeply you long for it, no matter how greatly you desire it, no matter how much power you possess — in the end, you cannot obtain the very thing humanity has spent millennia searching for: freedom.You cannot escape the bondage of the body. You cannot flee from social ties and identity.

Human beings are like statues, each sunk deep in a swamp — waiting, at last, to be swallowed.

Life is nothing more than a fleeting passage — meaningless. Like our own lives, inevitably drifting toward nothingness.

And yet — for a moment's peace — we created music, words, paintings...

The same is true of rock — that voice that strikes straight at the soul, those unspeakable rages and pains. They move something deep inside us far more than any dressed-up warmth or love ever could.

In this cruel world, dressed so beautifully, rock raises a deafening cry of resistance.

Rock sings our unwillingness to yield. Sings our anger. Sings our pain...

It is not only yourself — you are not the only one screaming.

Those countless weak cries — like countless faint glimmers in the darkness — gather together into the light that shines ahead of you. Never dying. Never fading.

Or perhaps — one day — you can smile and say: I have tasted freedom. In rock.