Peace, along the weary road

"And ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way with with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing."
---Edmund Sears

Not a holiday thought, really, but a true one: if life hasn't crushed you, bent you low, it will. You may be betrayed by institutions to which you've dedicated your life, people you love, your own body. Your mind may betray you as your memories slip away into thin air and heartbreak. The American Dream may betray you as a lifetime of hard work leaves you with broken dreams and disillusionment, and not much else. All of us, sooner or later, find ourselves toiling along a climbing way, weary to the core.
And a little music won't fix all of those wounds and betrayals, won't restore broken minds and bodies to their former selves. But, oh --- just for a while, a minute, an hour, an evening --- to get off that uphill trek, and to rest, and to listen to the song of angels. Not to escape, because sometimes that weary road is life. Not to escape, but to rest.
Peace, along the weary road...