My Violin

Long ago a seed was sewn...

It became one with the earth-

Then a sapling sprouted up,

And to a tree gave birth.

The tree lived and flourished-

Until men found its wood,

And thought that they could bring from it-

An even greater good.

So they took their saws and axes,

And hewed it to the ground- 

Then they chopped it into pieces,

And sold it all around.

They sold it for men’s fires-

They sold to build men’s homes-

They sold it to the normal and the crazy,

And to gypsies who ever roam.

They sold it to the carpenters-

They sold it to the mill-

They sold it to the rich and poor-

The healthy and the ill.

The wood went to many- 

But the man that we’ll speak of-

Is the violin maker- 

Who crafted it with love.

He took the pieces of the tree,

And gave it voice to reveal-

The power at man’s touch- 

To show what hearts conceal.

He gave it the ability-

To show forth man’s heart-

The joy, anguish, and the passion

That tears humanity apart.

He took the simple wood,

And he made a violin-

An instrument unfolding-

All that lies within.

So from a little seed-

That grew into a tree,

And from many men’s hands-

My violin came to me.