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.
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