The sky has been threatening rain since I woke up this morning. It never follows through, brooding silently overhead. The day seems miserable and airless, static. It’s one of those days when you could be the only soul alive.I take the SAT for the last exhausting time and drive home in a fog. I fumble with my keys at the back door and find my way inside.Without warning, I am knocked over by Johnny Cash’s deep and rich voice as it rumbles with thunderous conviction. Mesmerizing. A straightforward melody echoes against a stark percussive soundscape.He always cuts right through me. His anthems sound and resound in my consciousness, and his truths have the haunting allure of a mirage, without the impermanence.God’s gonna cut you down.When I recover from my shock – after I regain awareness of my surroundings, that is – I notice that I am listening to a music video.I have no problem with this video’s so-called “pretentiousness.” This video is purely the embodiment of a staggering legacy. It is here, it is now, and it has life through his music and the people he has touched. And if people he has affected feel like paying tribute to Johnny Cash, they – and all of us – have every right to do so.Granted, the video is not markedly original, but that is to be expected. I refuse to believe that the message of The Man in Black could ever be given justice in film, could ever be stated more simply and profoundly than it is in music, his chosen medium.What would really be cliché and uninspired would be if I were to add that as the last chord of the song fades away, the relentless grey heavens allow a gentle shower to fall.