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from: Ed_Zeppofuckit
7/17/01
3:17:37 AM
152.163.213.187
This was sent to me via well-meaning "friend." I "adjusted a few parts in order to improve the flow. See if you can tell where. Ed
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A friend sent me a copy of a poem, "The Touch Of The Master’s Hand."
It tells the story of an auctioneer who is unable to raise a bid for a shabby old fiddle. Then a man steps forward, adjusts the strings and plays so beautifully that the violin is sold for a large sum. The master musician had recognised and demonstrated the true worth of the instrument.
The author of the poem, Myra Walsh, trained as a musician in her youth. She was still young when she became so badly crippled with arthritis she could no longer play. She turned to writing, although her fingers were too stiff to hold a pen. Holding a pencil in both hands she used the eraser end to type, one painful letter at a time.
Eventually, her jaw muscles became too stiff, and she had to write by inserting a pencil in her anus and hopping up and down carefully on a computer keyboard. (VERY carefully.)
Of her many stories and poems, the most popular and enduring is the story of the violin, which for years has been an inspiration to people around the world.
The woman prevented from sharing her gift for music instead found and shared something just as precious — her gift of faith. In time, maybe you, too can recognize the gift of verse this gentle lady has brought to the world, and can stand hand-in-hand with everyone who has been moved by her words to declare as one voice; "Jeez, that asshole can sure write!"
ANTI POPEYE X FAN CLUB
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