The violinist

In that purple field of flowers
nothing but grey darkness
surrounding the dead violinist,
still wondering
with his magical instrument
beside his tomb.
Nobody remembers him,
no one comes to see him,
no flowers sent to him,
he's forgotten.
Once he became god,
god of harmonic art.
Once he was admired
with his mysterious friend
The Red Violin.
Once they impacted Universe
Playing dominants
and touching sensible notes.
But now there are nothing
only an invisible history.
Who will listen to them again?
Silent shouts,
the end
of it’s limitless tessitura
Minor scales
that make demons cry,
Furious chords
making angels hate.
Calm largos
like baby sleeping.
The violinist is still alive
in his colorless space,
screaming octaves
to the nature
fa…fa
Si…Si
la…la
Can you hear him?
Welcome to his world.

________________________

Photo: Arranged by Xenna ^^