Reach Above and Beyond

A blind squirrel can find a nut,

If he were lucky enough.

A peacock may strut,

Even if his feathers were all fluff.

A lone wolf on the prowl,

May let lose a howl,

Of sorrow,

Of sadness,

Of regret,

For there might not be a tomorrow.

He cries out in the darkness,

Wanting another duet.

There is no reply,

But the rushing of the wind,

The sounds of rustling branches,

And leaves, greets his ears,

As he stands proudly on that hill,

Belting out his final notes,

Wishing that there was a harmony,

To his lonely cry,

As he whispers his final goodbye.

Not much further from the woods,

Near a trickling stream,

There is a log cabin,

With wooden beams.

And in that cabin,

Lying in its velvet case,

Rests a rustic violin,

Near some old bookcase,

Waiting to be picked up,

And played,

Some day.

And when that day comes,

The musical notes,

Of that singular violin,

Will float softly in the darkness,

As the player, recites and

Plays a well-known tune.

A song of longing,

A song of lament,

Something haunting,

Something sad,

A solo meant for one,

That has only just begun.

With a deft stroke of its bow,

And the humming of its strings,

The violin tells a tale,

Filled with many things.

The life of a hermit,

The times spent in isolation,

The loneliness and tunes,

That seem to have been long forgotten.

The olden tunes,

That are as endless and immeasurable,

As the fields of cotton,

That once stood there,

In the abandoned forest.

A memento of a previous era,

In the weathered sierra.

Are recited once more,

Before they are fully,

Lost to this world.

As the melody continues,

To spin and weave its captivating web,

The sounds of the forest,

Start to ebb.

As the rustling of the trees,

Start to die down,

The birds stop singing,

And then there was no sound.