Final Prestige

May 8, 2009
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I remember the singing of my ancient fiddle
It had been slipped through time
Generations ago, it was birthed
I prepared the bow
Rosen it
Tighten it
Oh, the excitement dripped into my soul
I was in position
The blood red instrument on my left shoulder
My neck on its rest
Fingers in place on its stretched mahogany neck
The race was about to begin
I lightly rubbed the horse-haired bow on each metal string
As my fingers wriggled through each note
I made not music, but the universal language of understanding
I moved with the dance of each note
My eyes tightly closed as if my imagination would not let me leave
My adrenaline rushed of German symphonists
The sounds and thoughts were trapped inside me
“Give us freedom” they exclaimed
My bowed arm moved faster as my fingers did
My heart beat the rhythm
I began to perspirate happiness
My heart raced
Faster and faster I went
I could not slow the engine of my mind
I didn’t stop
This lyric of satisfaction needed to be released
My notes hummed lower to G’s
Then to A’s
Then, I let out the beast
My bow let out a final shrill
Of the vibrating string
Which led to a violent halt
I stood up from my chair to get my final prestige
But no one was there to clap





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