Friday, September 01, 2006

You press down, slowly. As the keys hammer strikes the string, your finger slips deeper into the key, closer to the piano. You feel the resistance of the action, the smooth silky ivory beneath your fingertip. One perfect note, sustained. You begin to play. You dont realize you are playing. Your fingers and your mind and heart linked so perfectly that it flows like thought, like feelings. Playing the music that is inside you. Eighty-eight keys. Infinite variations. Minor, major, diminished, augmented. Tones of life. Adagio, presto, legato, staccato. You are making the music of your life ring true and loud for all to hear. The sound washes over you. It cleans you of everything bad, everything unpure. You just play. Forgiving. Understanding. You have cried with it, notes dripping tears that almost wet your fingers. You have bent with anger, striking keys that vibrated with your same intensity. The piano plays you. It takes everything from you. Transfers emotions into sounds, thoughts into variations. It helps you speak a language you are better at speaking. And a language none can misinterpret. You leave the piano. It misses you when you are gone. And you leave all of your emotions behind in that lingering sound,that lingering thought,that lingering feeling,that lingering moment in your life. Preserved forever in the feelings that it creates.