The Violin

Got a new and better journal to write in. Lined pages, leather-bound, and big enough to write comfortably. Already breaking it in and fluffing my story a bit more, so don't look too closely if you don't want a mini-spoiler. In fact, don't look too closely even if you do want a mini-spoiler. I'd rather not ruin anyone's eyes, so I'll just rewrite it here for you.

SPOILER!

I brought the entire theater on a tour of hope, with my violin as their transportation.  I was Helios, the sun god, and my violin the chariot, carrying the sun into the sky to start a new day with endless possibility.  My violin was the Ark, and I was the dove sent by Noah to find proof of solid ground after the sins of the world had been washed away. My violin was Pandora's box, and my music was the hope left inside, alone. It was the tree that became paper used to fold a thousand paper cranes in order for a wish to be granted. And it was the seed that made it through a bitter winter to become Bette Midler's Rose.