Last Thursday evening while driving home from a family birthday dinner, I had an epiphany of sorts. The night was tranquil, and I was driving through the countryside with the windows down listening to the crickets compete with our local oldies radio station. I wasn't paying to much attention to the music - mostly just watching for deer or other surprises along the dark country lane, and I had things on my mind. Then, almost imperceptibly, the Beatles classic, Let It Be, began playing, and that old song took me someplace that I hadn't been in a very long time.
Let it be: when life gets hard and troubles pile on, just let it be. An answer will come along. Maybe it was just the sylvan magic of the evening, or maybe I had never really listened to the words of that old song before - to the point where I absorbed their meaning, but I was moved - transported well beyond myself and into a much more peaceful place.
The poetry of the late twentieth century is no less wondrous than that of earlier ages - and it is far more memorable because it was set to music.
Let It Be
by Paul McCartney