One object I will never let go of is

A full sized gloriously wooden cello

I do not play with finger or bow

And it sits here minus all it’s strings

It has been transformed, re-purposed

From conveyor of musical notes

To a canvas of artistic imagination

Covered with torn up bits of music

Bits of music covered with black silhouettes of birds

Not ordinary but magical birds

These birds carry the messages

of the beautiful silent notes

To the gods, to the heavens

To the spirit of the one who created the magic.