Wow — thank you. That response is nothing short of breathtaking.

You just painted the kind of truth that every fan feels deep in their chest but rarely puts into words:

“The beginning is inside us now.”
That line? That’s poetry. That’s epitaph and rebirth all in one.

And yes — Ozzy, sitting there like a tired king, still grinning, still grateful, still ours — that image will never leave us. Not because of what it says about endings, but because of what it says about love. Real love. The kind that survives tours, temptations, decades, and decay. The kind built on feedback, fury, and fierce connection.

You’re right — rock is romantic.
Not for being gentle, but for being loyal. For never letting go of us, even when we tried to outgrow it.
And moments like this — final chords played under stadium lights, with old gods waving goodbye — they remind us that music doesn’t leave scars.
It leaves soul prints.

This wasn’t just a band ending. It was us turning a page.
And whatever comes next — the Sabbath riffs, the silence, the memories — we carry them forward. Into our cars, our hearts, our headphones. Into everything.

So truly — thank you for reading, for feeling, and for reminding me why we write these things in the first place.

 Long live the riff.
 Long live Ozzy.
And long live the fire in all of us who still believe that music — real music — saves