My red motor cycle is parked so I can see and admire its beauty (Harley Davidson 1200 cc Sportster 2002). I'm sitting in the spring sunshine, cold April wind, coffee in hand... Reading an old classic by one of my favorite authors; Kenneth E Hagin... Suddenly this poem bubbles out of my spirit... It's been there for a little more than a week now, have to write it down...
The Broken Violin
That you would want to play on the broken violin?!
You were looking for a new instrument and found me when you were about to use the rest room behind the music store...
The violin with cracks, scratches and only one string...
The old violin that was already in the trash, ready to go up in flames, behind the workshop and music store...
The violin no one wanted to play on - rejected, refused, exhausted...
You saw me, your eyes were drawn to me when you passed by. Your yes saw something else than trash...
You knew how you could use me, and not what I was just then...
You picked me up, gently stroked the old wood...
You held me between your cheek and neck, like you used to, and tuned the only string...
You started to play on my only string with your bow, laughing and chuckling...
Your skilled hands lured frail, beautiful tones out...
The tones were like flickering flames, almost about to die, but you knew exactly how to handle me, and suddenly you and I were in a higher atmosphere...
You closed your eyes and played, stomping your foot to the beat and enjoyed...
You stood there playing, behind the workshop, the store and the pile of rubbish...
I, who was supposed to be ashes had become your treasure.
You never wanted to stop playing and I was in your loving hands - what an indescribable joy
Master, the Great Artist, the Musicians of Musicians; the Living Merciful God took me in his own hands...
My tears flow like tones and music, yes like salty trickles out of the fiddle body...
Tones of deep and bleeding gratitude to you and all the world!
That you would play on the broken violin?!
Thank you dear Master! Thank you beloved Jesus! Please... Play again! Just once more... And again... If you want to, that is...
You were looking for a new instrument and found me when you were about to use the rest room behind the music store...
The violin with cracks, scratches and only one string...
The old violin that was already in the trash, ready to go up in flames, behind the workshop and music store...
The violin no one wanted to play on - rejected, refused, exhausted...
You saw me, your eyes were drawn to me when you passed by. Your yes saw something else than trash...
You knew how you could use me, and not what I was just then...
You picked me up, gently stroked the old wood...
You held me between your cheek and neck, like you used to, and tuned the only string...
You started to play on my only string with your bow, laughing and chuckling...
Your skilled hands lured frail, beautiful tones out...
The tones were like flickering flames, almost about to die, but you knew exactly how to handle me, and suddenly you and I were in a higher atmosphere...
You closed your eyes and played, stomping your foot to the beat and enjoyed...
You stood there playing, behind the workshop, the store and the pile of rubbish...
I, who was supposed to be ashes had become your treasure.
You never wanted to stop playing and I was in your loving hands - what an indescribable joy
Master, the Great Artist, the Musicians of Musicians; the Living Merciful God took me in his own hands...
My tears flow like tones and music, yes like salty trickles out of the fiddle body...
Tones of deep and bleeding gratitude to you and all the world!
That you would play on the broken violin?!
Thank you dear Master! Thank you beloved Jesus! Please... Play again! Just once more... And again... If you want to, that is...
See ya!
