The Broken Stradivari

It fell to pieces in his hand
As he took the stage
His violin, from another age
Simply broke apart, crumbling
As his heart did.

Replacing the instrument in its case
The violinist sat to grieve
His tears daubed by his sleeve.
The ancient violin, now gone
Had been his friend, so dear.

For three centuries it sang
Melodies so sweet they made him cry.
It seemed as he may die
And trembling deep within
Could not keep from it.

The manufacture of Stradivari
From so very long ago
The body, neck and scroll
Had finished the race prescribed
And to thousands, was grace, incarnate.

All we, like the violin
Will soon complete our course
And will, by death, be forced
To silence our voice, our song
Yet must rejoice we had one.

For the present, in this day
Make melody and song
Be confident and strong.
Sweeten and endure your tribulation.
May your allure be charming!