Me and my piano, that one key,
The memory finds a way back to me.
Perfect circling as I sit on the creaking remnants.
I sink until I’m watching over my own shoulder.
Observing a smaller version of myself sitting
feet swinging from the piano bench.
Ear perched on my hands, fingers resting over these same keys.
Tears leaking silently, any sound subdued by the constant strike of a single one of these.
Until I felt the sound of it lifting the vibration weighing on me.
Sometimes tapping, others pounding, thinking, dying, drinking, crying, playing.
Over and over, time and again, each image a different version,
each blends until the memory bends into the present version sitting here once again.
A different stage, with different players, always the same key.
I sit at the origin watching little me, absorbing the sanctuary being born.
Remembering…
The beauty vibrated under my cheek, speaking a language so deep.
Resinating so deep, it’s taken to my subconscious for proper translation,
In the end, eyes closed deep breath, I can see more through the compilation.
The source of peace whispering through a feeling…
Head resting on my hands above the notes singing life through me.
Now I’m sitting here listening as others are wondering,
Why it’s always that key that seems to be out of tune these days.
I smile at the secret memory passing through me.
Holding the pearl deep. This one I will keep.
… It makes perfect sense to me.