VIOLIN SOLO

VIOLIN SOLO

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

Gypsy caravan

melding out from the horizon

old men slashing

a whip as horses gallop foreword

freemen of Spirit, unbridled by chains

deciding their own fate

among the stars of the sky.

Feeding and nesting in their travels

the firelight

cooked the meat and lit the way

and the encampment was good.

To be free of bondage.

To be uncensored by government.

Gypsy eyes

looking the other way and teaching

that mankind

cripples people by their ruling whip

as they

become the satire of mouths

never understanding

from whence the Gypsy came.

The violin

whose Spirit is a miracle of sound

imbues

their lives with dance and Joy

rarely found

in the Spirit of united citizens.

To be unclaimed, is the voice.

To be free of mans interventions.

Gypsy love

is in the air of these encampments

knowing the journey never ends

free to roam

the land like the indigenous Souls

whose wagons were their homes.

Breaking bread

by the aged hand of expression

no art

could capture their smiling faces.

No camera

upon them or TV news to exploit

the venting

of their journeys Will.

To be in forested by Faith.

To be the lexicon of all things free.

Long live the Gypsy and the Violin solo ...