A Love Supreme
First you must acknowledge it, said Mr. Coltrane.
A steady expanding description of the most holy came from his continuous breath into the saxophone. The cacophony of piano bars and bass clashed and conformed into a wondrous river of sound.
Secondly, it should be resolute. Mr. Coltrane said.
With the full force of cosmic might the band burst into being from another dimension. Encompassing all but none; it exists in absolution. Staccato shrieks punctuated the melted copper medley as it filled the airwaves. A familiar call from Coltrane told it all.
Third of all, it should be pursued, he added.
The drummer chased it through every smack of the cymbals as it pushed further. Under duress, the saxophone spoke in new tongues. Catching up with the crew, the piano moved hurriedly along with angst amongst it keys. Like breaking the womb, the saxophone pierced the delicate barrier with full translation of the awe in sound. In preparation for prayer, the bass called the band to quorum.
Lastly, it is psalm.
The saxophone led the band as they climbed the great heights of sonic mountains. Descending these heights, the band flew softly across Mind. Bearing sweet fruit from on high, they sung a song of utmost reverence for all: A LOVE SUPREME.
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