In the quiet corners of my days, your music unfurls like light through a prism.
You taught me to “shine on, you crazy diamond,”
and in doing so, you handed me a map to my own heart.
When the world felt heavy,
your echo whispered that “the sun is the same in a relative way,”
and suddenly the sky seemed wider, kinder.
Even rebellion felt like poetry when you said
“we don’t need no education,”
reminding me to unlearn what dims the soul.
I love you—not just for the sound,
but for the way you turned feelings into landscapes
and let me walk through them unafraid.
Forever beneath your moonlit chords,
