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There is an absence of  light, before the light.  A simple bare stage in the waning gloaming,  and I can see Darrell make his way to a lone microphone.  He is here to  shine that light on matters of the heart─the grit, grease, gristle, and  most importantly, the marrow beneath the breastbone.

And what is  the path that shapes us as we go along, those true defining moments  without which we would be hollow versions of our current selves?  For  Darrell, it was coming from a musical family with a father who had him  smitten with guitars by the age of 4, alongside a brother who played  Jerry Reed style as well.  From there, things only ramped up with  literature and poetry endeavors while a student at Tufts University,  along with playing his way through life.  This would never change.

When  those hands of…