The Piano

The Piano.

Interrupt the putrid silence of an ordinary room,
wiping spider webs with the sweetest of magics;
ebony and ivory together recall the grand nostalgia
of past and future, time and space, life and death,
in an Olympic melody of broken chords and hearty chants!

Life is only a three act show; a comic charade at best.
What’s better than the God of instruments in constant harmony?
What’s the greatest thing, if not the fulfillment of our soul?

As tragedy, the cold bastard son of drama, opens its mouth,
covering our lives with the filthiest stench a mind can take,
keys and fingers battle their way into the holy washing of
true sadness, for our spirits are based on the following truth:
no bird is destined to be caged, no joy to be repressed.

Wake up from your shallow sleep! Start to run and sing along!
A divine treasure, more human than flesh itself, lays there for free:
centuries of staves and notes, black stains that summon the
heaven-like raving ghost of universal beauty.

Interpreters, composers, artists, alchemists of moods,
turning the sour debate of blood versus spirit into a single,
one only, unstoppable force that well dominates hearts.

This is the artistry of the piano, and no one can deny it.