Everlasting Song

Dedicated to various sweet friends who are going through rough times. I won't write their initials to keep their complete confidentiality.

A beautiful poem I saw [I don't know who wrote it].

Read slowly and aloud for full effect.

Consider the harp, in the musician’s hand,

Noble and erect, proudly it does stand.

Delicately formed, etched in swirls and ridges,

Strings gracefully riding over polished bridges.

Within the instrument lies the awesome power,

To produce enchanting notes, or to turn them sour.

And the strength of the music the instrument brings,

The song, the expression — it lies in the strings.

Those strings are subject to precision and care,

For the power within them, the musician is aware.

If they are left loose, not under any strain,

Cold, mute and lifeless the harp will remain.

For the harp to produce its heavenly song,

The cords must be taut, stretched tight and strong.

Under tension and strain, and then plucked some more,

Only then is its magnificence brought to the fore.

The strings may resist the plucking and pain,

But everlasting song bursts forth — ‘twas not in vain.

We are all but instruments in the Musician’s hand,

And there are so many things we do not understand.

Sometimes it pulls, the cords are being tightened,

The music seems silenced, our hearts cold and frightened.

Crises may tug — life seems so fraught,

The Musician is pulling — the strings become taut.

But the song’s penetrating, listen closely, hear the strains,

The song of the soul, as momentum it gains.

For the tighter he pulls, the tenser the strings,

The music reaches crescendo, the soul rises and sings.

The pressure, the tension, the vibration, the pull,

No, the harp is not mute, life becomes so full.

The mind can take heed, the heart understand

That each pluck is well placed, and each tug is well planned.

To bring forth from within, through test and time,

A crescendo of meaning, a melody in essence sublime.

The strings are in place, may it not be too long —

Before the harp will burst forth in everlasting song!. . .

The pasuk says היטיבו נגן בתרועה - Make a beautiful niggun with a truah. A truah is a broken sound that sounds like a cry. The word truah means "broken" as in the pasuk תרועם בשבט ברזל. When you feel broken, when you are crying, you can turn that into the most beautiful music to Hashem.