A skeletal violin.
Nothing but mere frames
of wooden curves,
of idle strings,
and a voice waiting for
the right moment
to speak.

And when it is called to join
the fallen
in the final battle against
the night,
already lost and
already won,
it answers.

With a testimony to the dead
and a prayer for the
living,
it answers.

A beacon to guide
the champions
caught in binds of
starvation and
loss
through the storm.

Past the gallows.

And to the inklings of
humanity
forgotten inside;

Forgotten,
but forever present.

A skeletal violin
singing to the ghosts of
lives once sacred
of souls once
sanctuary.

It sings.

A skeletal violin.
Nothing but the mere frames
of gentle curves
of preaching strings
and a voice
seizing
the only moment it has
to speak.

An advocate to face the end,
it sings.

The skeletal violin,
conquering the dark.

The skeletal violin,

and silence.