there is an infinite number of possibilities
to be created within 88 blacks and whites across
a wodden piano: 12 varying keys.
each note paints a different world of
hopes, despairs, fantasies.
a melody might ask for forgiveness,
or sing in happiness of the sunlit day.
moonlight and a rushing river might
be the epitome of a harmony;
or wave after relentless wave of
the crushing ocean.
a composer once said,
music is the silence between the notes.
silence is golden,
but music cannot be measured
in terms of mortal material.
it is infinite - aeviternal - beyond.
notes are stars that do not implode.
and a piece of music is a constellation
that
never dies.
