The Harpist

A hungry old man with a long gray beard sits with his back against a cold stone wall, his eyes closed and his legs stretched out before him into the street. Above the wall, far above the man, are seen the tall spires of a royal home, for the wall that he sits against is an outer wall of the majestic palace belonging to the reigning king of the land. The man's lips curve into a half-smile, the only sign that he is, indeed, awake.
It is not obvious at a glance what holds the man in such a trance, what causes the deep look of rapture and light on his face. When one steps closer, however, he can hear the source of the man's joy: a soft sound of angelic music coming from within the palace and boyond the cold stone that the man leans against.
The harpist who sits within the walls has no knowledge of the new life that his song is bringing to those outside the wall. He thinks only of pleasing the king, as he sings a song that he composed for His Majesty alone.
The man outside mouths the words in echo to the harpist's singing.
“As the deer pants for the water, so my soul longs after you;
you alone are my heart's desire, and I long to worship you.”
It is the song of his own heart, expressed in a beauty and simplicity that he has never known. He leans back into the wall, suddenly feeling the new warmth that surrounds him, a warmth that comes from communion with the King.