There comes a time in life when you realized life has come to the point of no return.
In the pursuit of means to live better, men have so often chase dreams in a way that the old must make way for the new. A substitute for another; another now deemed valueless, now is to be replaced with something even better.
He took up the violin and gently he ran his fingers on the strings. He felt the ribs of the aged but an instrument that miraculously survived decay.
But men have also so often forgotten or rather choose to forget, that new does not necessarily mean better. Nor does it make the old valueless.
As if to throw a tantrum for being used so extensively, his beloved refused to sing in tune. This has happened before. He plucked the strings, listening to her sing. Twisting her pegs, he helped and pampered her into singing in tune again.
Life is like a circle, a cycle really; sometimes harsh and cruel. There was a time when men cannot foresee nor fathom the transmission of voices and music with radio signals nor when they could see stories being told and shown by a box. These were his hey days.
As he makes his way to centre stage, being one of the last of his kind, he prepares his final show, his point of no return. Time and age has soften him well, making his body fatigue, now only possessing the strength of one last show.
He lifted his bow, placing it gently on the string.
A deep breath and the first pull of the bow; the first note.
The beginning of his point of no return.
(inspired by the Penglipur Lara Awang Batil of Perlis
What is penglipur lara?
Answer: http://sasterasmso.tripod.com/id1.html )
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