...and then he wrote Meditations Gil Scott-Heron

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[Intro]
Uh, this is, this poem is specifically for the master of the tenor saxophone, uh, the immortal John Coltrane. Um, and, uh, there have been a lot of poems written, um, mentioning Coltrane, the contributions that he made to black music, but none specifically about him—that I know of—and none that, um, that go into what I consider his greatest piece, A Love Supreme. And I wrote this with A Love Supreme in mind. It’s called “...and then he wrote Meditations.”

[Verse 1]
Straddling the darkness
He controlled the bucking thrusts and rode on
Into the emptiness that he alone would try to fill
Into the middle to try and be the bridge between spirits
“Expand,” he screamed
The vacuum was aroused, suspicious, and alarmed
Who would dare?
But on he rode

[Verse 2]
The tailwinds were from Africa
The bass and force were timeless rhythms that
Restructured beat and consciousness
The chasms between seconds
Were made real and whole
New targets imploded within the void
Holes were punctured through ebony nothingness
And resistance increased, walls appeared

[Verse 3]
Rise up, Trane
The answer is just beyond the next wall
Rise up, Trane
The answer is just beyond the next wall
The Trane rose up