Tennessee Smash

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The big man in black stood in silent contemplation of the muted sounds of the city by night and the sluggish rhythms of Ol’ Man River-the mighty Mississippi -as it flowed behind him with its ghostly murmurings from eternity.

Eternal, yeah… that was the word. A flowing stream was like the life of a moving man-eternal, yet ever changing, the waters flowing from some unseen beginning and hurrying toward an unimaginable infinity-nothing ever fixed, nothing ever certain-yet eternal… eternal.

Banks and beds do not a river make; Bolan knew that. Nor did waters. H20-big deal-molecules in great numbers, clinging to one another through chemical bonds while slowly drifting from nowhere to nowhere.

Like a man's life, yeah.

So where did either get such grand ideas about eternity? What is a river if it isn't banks and beds, hydrogen and oxygen mixed together and flowing from nowhere to nowhere? What is a man if not blood and bones, electricity and tissue mixed together and growing from nothing to nothing?

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