For some reason, perhaps some mixture of the rain that is falling outside on this drizzly December afternoon in Atlanta and the haunting recollection of last Friday's horrific massacre in Newtown, Connecticut, I am reminded this day of a particularly prophetic (and poetic) song by Sting. As a warning, this will most likely be the first of several blog posts on this artist for he has long captured my imagination and monopolized my music library.
Sting is perhaps the best storyteller I know. And the story he tells in this particular piece of art has been carved into my soul for many years and I wish to share it with you this day. Before I reflect upon the dark beauty of this song, it is best to listen to it so as to let its magnificence speak for itself. You can listen to it here or below.
I struggle, even now after listening to this song my entire life, to put into words what I receive from this beautiful piece of art. In all honesty, I find that its meaning to me is nuanced by what page I find myself in the book of my life (stay tuned for a future blog post on this song). That being said, what fascinates (and haunts) me most is the tension that Sting holds between irony on one hand and grace in the other.