Same song, different voices

The Grammy winning singer/songwriter Delbert McClinton:



The poet  Edna St. Vincent Millay (one of Mom's favorite poets):

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,—so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

My co-blogger ASM826:

We mark the beginnings of things, but very often there is no way to mark the last times. 

When was the last time:...I read one of them a bedtime story...We all went to the beach together...One of them sat in my lap...One of them held my hand to cross the street...I helped one of them with his homework...and so on... I dunno. Those kinds of things fade away and you don't even notice.

The music of these three voices is ancient.  It is, in fact, the voice of every person who has ever lived.