The Silent Song

A song, a soul, sounds intertwining and shining within the darkness on a moonlit night. They say that werewolves come out at night, but is it really true? I was born not long ago, yet found a home and a source of food since then. Words are strange to me. Job? Love? What do those even mean? Yet love makes me ache, hunger, twist and turn in pain and want as I cry out soundlessly. A stare, a smile, gentle, gentle words caress me and lift me up before sending me off as a sludge bubble. And then I wandered, wandering wandering away until someone found me. I saw love. Love. A father, a daughter, music creators, wood carvers, creating such beautiful, beautiful things that I do not understand them. Violin? Viola? Cello? Bass? What do all those mean? I touched each creation in awe, a gift sent by the gods. Familiar, want, that is what I felt when I held a tiny instrument in my hands. Violin…what a beautiful sound it made!

Notes, wind, the sound playing in the still air of this stale home as I sang sweet, sweet notes into the night. I cannot speak, I do not know why. Yet, my heart pounds, sings, cries out in fervor as each note is played. How wonderful life is! How wonderful this world is! This is what my heart sings and yet…it aches. It yearns. It hungers. Why? And what?Love is such a sweet, sweet food and it satisfies me to no end, yummy things that make me blush and giggle in happiness. But something is amiss…I remember the girl talking to me about it. Past? Memories? Something to be forgotten? What could she mean? I do not know, yet I want to know…yet I fear it. What could they mean? What did that mean for me? Even now, the note trembles at the very thought as I stare into the dark, the moonlight shining through the dark.

Thoughts? Feelings? Emotions? How wonderful they are, to be brought out in a person! I knew I always loved that, yet I felt like it was not enough. Why wasn’t it enough? I wanted to reach out, touch the stars, the planets, the hearts of every living thing. And yet, I cannot…how sad. How strange. I cannot and it hurts…

But I’m happy, aren’t I? Here in this tiny little workshop where everyone works hard…but not me. I can only play, they want me to play and that’s it. Out on the streets, on the sidewalk, playing, playing my beautiful violin to the masses. People stop. People listen. And I’m happy. I’m fulfilled. I make happiness, I make love. I am fed this way and I’m so, so fulfilled that my heart could burst. But I see people walk away, and it hurts. I want more. I’m hungry, why is that when I see them go away that I get hungrier?It hurts, I want to die, please let me die… Oh, but the world is so, so beautiful now! Why these dark thoughts come, I do not know. Yet they do, and my song saddens and makes people weep. I feel guilty that I make people weep…but…I’m happy, too. Why am I happy for people’s sadness? Or do I just want to make them feel? Yes, that must be it.

I play, on and on, into the dark, the night, the whispering air as notes curl and toss into the breeze. The curtains sway slightly with my breath, how delightful that they dance so! My audience, a mass, how wonderful it would be to play for so many! I want more. But I fear, too. Would people go away? Would they hate me, hate my music? A thought, a feeling, an emotion I cannot bear. Oh how my heart aches and trembles at the thought! But I am silent as ever, my only words through my notes and my strings. I play with my heart, my heartstrings doing the work inside and creating emotions while my violin does the work outside and sends them out. And how I can communicate! How wonderful it is when people stop to listen! I want more.

I wonder why I get like this when I play? Not at ease…but hunting. I hunger for more. Praise me, love me, I did a good job, didn’t I? I want more, so I play. Recognition? Smiles? I live for it, every day. And so I play on, feeling my heart tug with each movement of the bow.