Black against white. br No sound no motion. br Silently I sit in front of the piano, br My fingers yearning to dance atop the keys. br The music inside me is waiting, waiting. br Finally, slowly, gracefully I reach br My hand out to meet its love. br The keys are like cool glass against my fingertips. br Steady and calm they begin their dance. br Down to the deep depths of the lower keys br And up to the sweet flying tones of the higher ones br Do my fingers travel. br This sound does pour itself into me br And the notes become my breath, br The rhythm leads my heart. br New melodies and musical ideas br That were initiated in my head br Now pulse through the ends of my fingers. br The union of these two things- br One living and one essentially dead- br And the sound that is created by their meeting br Is a wondrous thing. br With the piano before me br The hands of time cannot grasp me br Or convince me to pay them attention. br But, soon I must move away br Despite this intense affair br That is so glorious. br Solemnly, I draw my fingers back br And the music somewhat fades from my being. br But much of it is still there br And waits to be freed br And brought to life once again.