The Fiddler Poem by Thoughts of a Single Man

As the dawn breaks

he is there

above the empty streets below

upon the crest of his lodging

beside the weathered chimney

a drifting composing shadow

a silhouette that fractures the glow of day

playing the mystical notes


Before the first bird can utter it's delicate chirp

he is there

dancing in a song that has never been heard

notes float sweet

like trickles of the morning dew

on the currents of the sailing breeze

the constant conducting anomaly

the ever present fixture

that greets the curious and peering eyes

with each gracious blessing

that is the birth of a new day


When the sleeping city wakes

he is there

flooded by the waking imprint

of the unending harmonies

that serenade his being

and are tethered to his strumming core

lost in the music

of a madman's melody

for such is the way of those

who heard the call of the rooftop

And so the day comes to an end. The sun begins to retreat into the calm of the escaping day and still he is there. For the music he hears falls deep into the canals of his ear, echoes only he can hear, and so he plays. These notes that come to him on the whispers of an angel's lullaby, drifting on the waves that flutter under heavens domain. The bow moves across the strings as they tremble in the melody made of the mind. Time stands still for him for all there is, all that he has become, is the music. How gentle it falls, like raindrops upon the window sill after the exiting storm. How tender it falls, like the chirping of the birds that call the village to rise, how warm it falls, like the first slivers of the sunlight that caress the sleeping eyes. He is the essence of what creation is. He is the raw untouched and untainted song that plays from the heart. For he walks the corridors where silent tunes are hummed by the soul of man. As the night prepares to make it’s entrance he retires from his lofty perch. To sleep and dream of the next day when again he shall climb the ladder and wait for the strike of the first note. For this is his destiny, his right, and what he must do. For there are those who must follow the path that calls them and he is no different. For such is the way for the man who rides the rooftop known simply as

, , , The Fiddler

Thoughts of a Single Man © 2013 tm