Did Clemens tell him about the energy of the written word, that the right combination of words written and read make men and women do things, give them a greater understanding, how to use energy effectively, how to be a lightning rod of ideas, of electric debate and inspiration for anyone they love, to help push them into action, that surely most of the energy truly is transmitted this way?
Did Johnson tell him that the spoken word of a poet turned words into images, images of feelings of overwhelming memories, of which the listener had not even had the thought of in their head before. That this was a wireless transmission that also caused a person into action, producing water, tears, of both joy and sadness. That pushed the listener to take stock, to re-evalute how they influence the world, that surely energy truly is transmitted this way?
Did Dvorak tell him of the sound of music, that could be used to connect to multiple sources of this energy generation to create a power source much bigger than one on its own. A cacophony of wireless energy, pulsating, pausing, cutting, deafening, harmonic, polyphonic, unplugged sound for all to wonder and rise to, in pride and in dance, a sound that would make this energy seem transcendental and inspire them to move and seek out beauty, that surely energy truly is transmitted this way?
Did Rontgen convey the truth that beams of light are transmitted through air that this energy can be absorbed through the skin, that an image can be held on the back of the retina that the viewer can process that image, that they would be able to recall that same image at a moments notice, to push them on, to give them a spurt of inductive energy, if the view is of a vision of beauty, one that stirs them deep, so deep they wonder what kind of beauty made this world that we live in and see, that surely energy truly is transmitted this way?
Words read of wanting, of life, of hearts searching and finding, poems written of love, delivered in twirling prose around a heart string and pulling just enough to move, a sonnet of untold beauty, music heard, of rising and plunging like a heart beat speeding up and slowing down with the nearness of its inspiration, a vision seen, a sight, an image of pure beauty, the feeling of warmth conveyed in a smile.
All these forms of energy transmitted, in this humble mans experience, when he reads her words written for he and he alone, when he sees her enter his vision filling his senses, when he hears her name as if it has become the song of his love, his heart is sprung into action even if the rest of his body is not, his legs stuck to the floor, his mouth unable to form words, a reverberation throughout that disrupts all normal transmission, what else can he do but to send 1000 ships, take over half the known world, write 2000 sonnets, play the music of his soul, chase her until his energy is gone, even when little is returned.
Why then does that energy suddenly dissipate into a whimper, why do we build resistors, place them in sequence, always scared of an overload?
Sometimes a man knows too well his short comings, his self doubts amplified, he uses the energy stored and held in that capacitor, energy once received and never dissipated, held inside, sometimes he would steal some of the energy he was trusted with, he held it from transmission, he transferred it to store, something to keep him warm when alone on a cold night he knew was ahead.
But he learns nothing good comes from stored energy, it must be generated fresh, sent out and received with sparks, lighting the soul, turning to more words and and speech, more music, more light and visions, sending the vibrations back out into the night into the hearts of others that need stirring. In truth though it must be generated and received in equal measure, it must go back and forth for it to be an effective source of energy in this world. We all seek a sustainable source.
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