The Violinist

Ever thought of a violin in a dark room- the fragility of the bow against the strings as each delicate note pushes gently at the silence of the walls. It seeks an escape within the crevices of the encasement; an escape found in every weakness of the room. A soft sweet sound knocks at the pillars of your soul, demolishes every door, cracks the windows. You see this as a failure, a chaos created to pain you. But your heart is not the cement of the establishment, nor is it the wood or the foundation. It isn't even the lost floating specks of dust or the oxygen that fills the otherwise empty hallways. The violin is not there to hurt you, it is not there to break you. It is there because you need to hear its music, be seduced by it, embrace it. It is there because you need to understand that it does not matter where your heart lives; as long as it's alive.

Do not mourn the ending song, prosper in its lingering on
its eternity is not in the space that surrounds you- but in the space within you, dear

-Anahi