Agony of the Violin

Agony of a violin:
Strrrrrr , a cranky sound welcomes me to the long unihabited land of music and melody. the sound of sound chord which has lost all its grease , oiling, and enthusiasm. It fails to bulge for me to adjust the pitch, One more attempt with my hard to recognize muscles pulling the strings out.of my body...naaaah wont wrk.
I keep the beautiful artwork body, the tanned brown with black sensous border, that is as admirable as to watch as Leonardo Da vinci would have imagined Mona Lisa.
I feel the weight only when the Violin is down in its small home. The weight that is suddenly filling my whole body from my toe to the redundant brain is hard to explain and I realize it is a combat that I have to fight. The battle , that the violin ,with its splendourous look and demigod status throws on me . I paralyze. I lose the battle even before I ready myself for it.
Not long ago were we friends, friends where I was the soul and it was the soul within. Yeh I am speaking about a passion that lived as a fire within me . THE VIOLIN. Life was dominanated with so much of inifinity and emotions and the only way to make way for them to be expressed was to be with my friend. It was more than a friend as I said it was a "SOul Within". The unexplained mysteries of my sadness and unexpressed happiness was never failed to be understood by the soul.Althought it was only 4 strings strong , with four keys , and a bridge that was like a connectivity for me and my soul within, It was as strong as 4 gods idling time in each of the strings. hmmm Yeh Inspiration is the adjective I choose here to mention my experience and my long relationship of 17 years with my Violin..
But the reality , Nothing exists any more. It seems like a wooden piece , forget a godliness.
WHere did it go wrong ? Where did I Screw up? WHen Did I let you down ?
8 mts ago , luck showered on me and made me an offer that anyone can hardly resist. It is the role of being part of the script for a play called L I F E where I play a role of a Winning character with a sound enthusiasm and energy , Right now am playing the character of winner like an oxymoron , with a sound enthusiasm, and a deaf energy.
Job , yeh job. WHo wouldn't want it ? Everyone does. Everyone wants to be an actor . I was one tooo. Days passed I paid no attention to my friend who was lonely in a house that could host a greek empire. Weeks passed the loneliness went away and then came in jealousy . Months passed when jealousy became the end.
Right now the piece of wood has no emotions. It is a wood , not an art just because its own soul was nowhere to be seen . It was tired and weak.Weak of having hopes that soul would return. Weak in wishing the soul the best. It needed a friend but all it got is an unjust, unfaithful treatment. All it got as friends was the pack of dust that covered its splendorous envious gold body, The soul failed.
Strrrrrrrrrrrrr.......But still the sound was like that of an emotion of a genie which was freed after decades.The aggressive happiness, the sound of the silence , autumn in a grave. The chords still matched for a parochial second. THe chords of two souls waiting to be freed. Two souls who were lost , one in their own loneliness , one in the pursuit of a fake oscar winning role in a play called life. Two souls whose love was like divine eternity and the two souls whose distance right now might be a 10 cms far and 100000 light years away.
Corporate gave me a good lesson. I won accolades, I won friends. I won rivals , I won envy , I won prode. At what cost ? I lost my soul , I lost my hunger , I lost my wisdom, I lost a friend. I lost myself. My soul was crying.....
It had nothing to lose. It was a piece of wood, even a wood actually feeding termites and contributing to a social cause. But it was not a piece of wood.
It was me., I was the god damn wood.
I am a wood with no soul with no life. Music was extinct .Melody went dumb. All there was in the wood was a sound of breath. But the weight was coming down. It was as if the souls have crossed the distance of 100000light years to be together again. But the soul still is in grief. It will take time to connect chords and adjust pitch. The Bow is the mediator. The bow with all soggy hairs like an old man was the mediator.
With sense of conviction and belief that after all I have to face the music that my own soul has to offer me. THe wood picks up the art.
The slave picks the master,
The burdenend picks the grieved.

I know we can make it again. Give me a chance. The wood spoke ....strrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr , there was the sound again .......