A Moment with My Guitar

At the age of five picking up
of a guitar is still pride to me,
I had no other wish.
Just a sequential episode of my fate,
It reflects as an unforgettable
happening of my life.

My curiosity upon a guitar,
became as an inspiration of the music;
it’s a friend of mine either
a pleasing or depressing moment.
My deep devotion to it,
I did not dedicate to others than it.

My perception of the guitar
is a pretentious lyra of the world.
By its virtue of being a playful, handful,
experimental, technical and friendly.
How do I play?
I can play by my own schemes, skills and ideas.
Freely with a phenomenal:
genres, techniques, flavors, patterns, forms and styles.

In endeavoring to be a good guitar player,
I spent so much time and money.
Those will not return or refund.
It left me at a toiling place, nothing done.

I tried to know the vital secrecy of guitar, and I asked
but my guitar never told me the truth, it’s wordless.

Playing a tuneless guitar,
I made only an irritating noise.
It sounded too rough and obtuse.
Thus, numerous moments gone –

Dream to devise a masterwork in music creation.
I spilled sweat and tears.
Losing with the hope of progression in playing,
My heart transformed like a cold string’s key.
Empty guitar’s sound hole like my soul – bitter fruit…
A dark and silent night,
a lamp’s dim light;
in flowing of fragrant breeze,
a hanging feather’s dance attracted my sight.
Making warm hands, soul and mind
by beating, bending, slurring, sliding
to pursue of a broad, deep, vast
and mystic musical journey.

On the guitar’s hard frets
and tied strings, my practicing fingers began
to run in a profound movement of every octave’s notes.
Fine performing from semibreve to demisemiquaver,
reading after hemidemisemiquaver, I play
and sometimes failed to play prestissimo.
I did not delight with largo.
The joyous tone of presto relaxed me.

Arpeggio did hold on me.
My body shook in staccato,
and rested in fermato.
Psyche swung with glissando.
That’s the climax of invention
that I found a secrecy of guitar.
Swing, sweet sound!
It’s a sound of my heart.
It’s not the sound of guitar.

The ways were distinct in lifecycle.
Options came as an undesirable decision-making.
Playing guitar could not be my excellent choice.
Detaching my relation with the guitar, it split us.

The wave of paranoid in crescendo and decrescendo
that struck my solitary universe. My dreaming shattered.
I felt my exciting fingers will not run again in that profound movement.
Accepting those feelings, a moment with my guitar was gone.
Dream to devise a masterwork in music creation.
My dream will never die so long as I will be alive.

* Greek word "lyra" implies musical instrument.