The Man Who Never Spoke But Aways Sang

Ryan if you are reading this, which you're probably not, I just want to thank you for all of the music over the years and I am so incredibly happy that you have started recording songs again! I wish all of the luck to you, your lyrics have helped me get through a lot.

There once was a town by the sea that was painted with bright buildings, golden sunlight, and dark blue waves. It was a busy place, always in motion, never knowing how to slow down and even at night when the people slept the ocean was restlessly churning. It was noisy town, and all the people there loved to talk, except for one young man, who never had much to say.
The man looked younger than he was with a boyish face, bright eyes, and curly brown hair. He had drifted into town a few months before like a leaf; silently floating to the ground without ever really being noticed and now he lived in the lighthouse on the shore. He was polite, but reserved, only ever speaking in short replies or greetings and the people of the town thought him unremarkable, unmemorable, and so they didn’t think of him at all.
Every night, from his view at the top of the lighthouse, he would watch the sun slowly sink beneath the ocean. The waves blazed orange like melting wax beneath the burning sphere of fire like a candle flame before flickering back out into darkness. But the darkness never lasted long as the young man would then strike a match to ignite the tower’s light. Filling the tin with golden fire he cut a shining path into the night to illuminate the summer’s crashing waves and guide the bobbing ships back to shore. Then, in the warm season’s air he would sit on the roof of the tower and strum at his guitar while waiting for the moon to fall. The young man raised his voice over the chords and restless sea for while he hardly ever spoke, he loved to sing.
During the week he worked at the docks, always humming to himself through the day and while the others there never paid him any attention, they often found themselves whistling his melodies later and having no clue as to where they had heard them. There was a park near the shore, a wide green field with wooden picnic tables and scattered trees and the bright sky above was spotted with white marching clouds. Every afternoon, in the shade of an oak tree, the young man sat and sang, his fingers flying over the strings of his guitar as his melodies filled the air. He never had much of an audience, and he never sought one, playing his music everyday simply because he loved it.
One afternoon a woman made her way through the park. Her high heels sunk into the grass as she walked and the diamonds around her neck glinted just like broken glass in the light of the sun. She didn’t glance at the young man as she passed, her arms tightly wrapped around her body and her eyes cast down. But later that night, when everything in her life had gone wrong, when she was broken down on the floor of her home and crying, the young man’s voice suddenly entered her mind. She couldn’t remember for sure where she had heard that voice, those lyrics, but then in that moment she felt that although everything had changed, it was going to be alright.
A man with wooden legs hesitantly walked over the grass. He was almost visibly shaking with nervousness and while he could hear the young man’s song as he passed him one day in the park, he didn’t stop to listen. And then later, in his misery, he suddenly found comfort in the thought that the night would eventually end and be met by the day.
Then the young man disappeared. He left without a single word, having nobody to say goodbye to and believing that there wasn’t a single person in that town that would miss him, but he hadn’t realized how important he had been. The town itself hadn’t realized how important he had been until the sun had risen the next day and there was no music in the air. No whistling on the docks and no singing in the park. Without ever intending to, he had helped so many people with not the words that he spoke, but rather the words that he sang. And that night, when no light shone from the lighthouse, the people wished for nothing more than the chance to thank the young man for the music he had brought them, but with only his guitar in his hand and lyrics in his head, he had already disappeared behind the sea.