Waiting

I sit here waiting patiently to be hit. I am not a masochist and I don't enjoy pain. I am waiting to be struck. Anticipating a vibration,a sensation. Waiting to ring out in a glorious metallic tone. To resonate the frequency I have grown accustomed to. To envelop me in the sound,to bring a sizzle and clarity to a piece of musical composition.

I sit here waiting to be struck,carressed by a wooden stick or mallet. To be tickled by a rapid massage in the jazz of the moment or crashed upon by a metal monster. It doesn't matter who will do the beating or the incessant pounding. I don't care as long as I am struck.

It could be a delicate touch or a massive thrashing. It doesn't matter to me as long as I am hit. For I am a cymbal.

And we cymbals live to be hit!