with care,

(back to blog)

 Karla 

 His hands run along the grain of the table

The lines look like the shadows of memories

Sometimes his life feels like he's riding the bull

Sometimes it feels like he's resting the violin on his chin

While he plays it aesthetically

In some effortless stream of internal wisdom

But suddenly it seems like there's something

That he needs to remember



The dark story comes to her in poetic dreams

With each stanza

Her fingers strike a chord

The slightest wind

Will unearth this shallow grave

And when it does

She closes her eyes

Taps her foot and hums

Her fingers pick up speed

She does know how twisted these lyrics can seem

But in the eye of this storm

She saw a mother who needed compassion

As does the mother in her



Now the piano is on the beach

And the Violinist

Plays with intoxicating beauty

Uriel lets the melody ride on the wind

He say, there's no one story

The chain reactions of pain

Go on endlessly

But you my daughter,

You will choose to be gracious in everything

There's always a broader perspective to engage

She let's the music be fed by the oceans beat



How exquisite the ocean mist feels on her hair

How enchanting to hear the waves crash in

How marvelous is the wet sand under her feet

The memories relevance is fleeting



As the Violinist sees them

He will weave them into his freedom

Into his love for life

He hasn't the capacity to choose less

And that is lovely indeed



She draws a heart in the sand

Her lover is the world

Though she won't take him too seriously

Or anything she experiences too personally

Except to be grateful for every chance to love purely

Allow the lyrics of life ride the wind

And play with the sea

The Violinist’s Memories