I caught myself. A blank stare. Touching the untouchable, it has been a few weeks. The keys invisible. My heart pounded, silently, quietly, steadily.
I pressed once, I pressed twice, the keys came alive. The piano I neglected, the sickness that pulled me distance apart from the music my heart lives for. Something about a quiet home, me alone, finally.
Sighed and played, the music welled up tears in my eyes. I miss this. I miss you. I miss them. Memories brought anew. The day is fading, the beautiful sun set, beckoning more music.
Something about the sound of old songs, my fingers moving swiftly, clumsily. Tears flooding my eyes, flooding the keys, flooding my soul. These tears only music can bring out. Music that is played from the soul of remembrance, beauty and pain wrapped in branches of sorrow.
It bears fruit, colors not seen in the visible world. These keys are invisible. When I play, tears trickle, I am swept up onto a raft into another world of the forgotten and the lonely. The memories, so vivid, alive to this weary weary heart.
Pounding, pounding. Silence.
In a world of useful and productive. I desire beauty in the invisible.
I can see the moon hanging steadily, subsiding with a new day