Once, a long time ago,, there was a non-ordinary man, the gatekeeper, and all things in life were given to him except Greatness, which protected herself with words blowing in the wind. Caution barricaded the door, prevented it from coming out. This key he needed badly, so he could become whole, escaping the blues, achieving happiness, and fulfilling the universal philosophy of love.

I’ve got the blues. Not the sock-em-to-me blues that BB jives about but the kind of blues that makes a man wanna holla. It makes a man wanna gut our his heart, just take a knife, and dig deep until it cuts through and yo blood is over yo face. No woman has ever done that to me, not even Ella.

I couldn’t handle it. When it came down to it, I thought I could. I told myself, It’s only Ella! Why are you getting jealous? Just seeing him on-stage with her, the way they played together. Ella was very therapeutic for me because she reached out to me. I got to a higher level without sinking low.

His first mistake was that his eyes showed his hatred for Greatness, a secret just below the surface; hidden by words blowing in the wind, but like a blind man in the darkness, he did not see it. For the musical key was covered in black-and-white, locked in a prison of the blues. It did not matter to him; he secretly loathed the power of freeing himself.

She made me choose. She came right up to my face, and said, It’s me or Ella. You pick, muthafucker, pick, goddamn it, and then threw her drink at me. Ella is safer than nickel rocks or nose bleeds. Ella is not a white woman. Ella is not a black woman. Ella is not any woman. Ella don’t have a mouth, and hair, and eyes born to seduce. Ella don’t talk back and fo’ sure, Ella don’t have a sweetness in between her legs feel like the devil’s version of homemade sin. Black man got to choose, Sweet Pea take Ella.

The only way I was going to save myself was through her. It made sense what BB was saying, that Ella was sent to look out for me. She was my guardian angel—she protected and watched over me, and kept her eye on me. When she was near, everything was okay.

The gatekeeper felt safe because he could see the eyes in the wind, they revealed to him that he would never find the key. Speak uncertainty, only the dark side needed the magic of the blues, seduced by waiting moments, a fine line separated him from love. Not even prayer belonged in the damned world of the gatekeeper, where his word is law and a musical note turned into an instrument turned into a woman.

When people asked me to clean up my act, I cleared my mind. I dug down and used Ella to see me through. It allowed me to truly be free. Something that I could step back from and truly be proud of. We became a mystical union of freedom. I began to play, finally, and Ella was right next to me, patiently waiting for me to come out.