Rain Prelude with Vadim Kiselev Music !
The dark clouds are ominous; the winds suffocate the cries of the lost and damned. On the shallow rocks of her shattered life she sat. Looking at the empty burning boat as life’s waves swallowed it up slowly savoring the taste of its burning flesh. Numbed, by the feeling of loss to her own shadow she sat. Broken, to the emptiness within the crevices of her tears she looked, and found nothing to comfort her.
She was left, with no purpose in life. And now that everything turns from sweet to bitter she sighs out breaths mixed with disdain so acidic by nature that the calcium deposits on the high rocks melt in pain. Perhaps she was destined to cry for the rest of her life! She came up with that conclusion after the final treacherous wave swallowed up the boat.
The boat of her dreams sank to the bottom of the merciless cold sea. It was swallowed up just like everything she cherished in her life. Yet, for once in her life she hoped she was the boat, and that her dreams would live to breathe another day not through her but through the winds and their ominous screams. Her world deserted her and walked away with all the hope she held for a better day. And though she yearned for light; that was the only thing she was destined to lose.
In her painful recollection she listened to the screeches of the violin resonating within her heart and she knew from now on she will never be able to play again. Her hands have betrayed her and the strings have bowed to the master of treacherous time, disintegrating one at a time. The strings of her heart that have rusted gave in to the desolation and resonated in fear as she clenched her fist only to crumble from the pain. She took out the violin from its case with her left hand, stared at her open wounds as she poured salt on top of them from the sand that trashed her dreams.
She looked at the place she once called home, at the home she resided in when she had no home. And the place where she would play to the melodies of her tears when she was infinitely betrayed by those she loved. She held the violin, rested its crying body over her own, grabbed its bow and placed it on its neck once and for all. In pain, her wrists would deem her unworthy to hold such a godly made instrument and yet she would not yield. She played one verse only to be thrown off track as reality hit her with its bittersweet winds. And she crumbled in pain.
The winds of change have brought this violinist to tears as now with her “condition” even her home has thrown her out. Incapable of holding the violin up again she collapsed.
Down below waves crash on her rock of seclusion; one, two, three, in a very monotonic manner desiring the heart that has lost everything it cherishes. They call out for her by name, demanding her soul as sacrifice, a soul that has nothing but pain to offer. She, the lost, has wandered defeated throughout this life, and now back to earth she will head.
One splash is heard followed by a smaller one, there goes the violin, and there goes the bow. Thunder and lightning are head, yet was there a third silenced with the calls of the hungry wind?