The Piano

There, resting in stoic frame, it reflected its sheen surface; glowing like a stilled black water river—The stage mocking banks at high tide. Ebony rowed keloids rose in-between marshmallow like parallels—Aping a skewed checkerboard smile frozen in time: a 9 to 13 tuned ratio. Marooned in this tuned ratio, all held rhythmic visions that veiled eyes could not see; all held tuned sounds that clogged ears could not hear. 88 heartbeats per time—Waiting. There in stilled silence, lived an eternity of unity—abiding in melodic bliss: a quiet concerto of beauty—awaiting its released.