ladiebugg
Bluelighter
The curtain slowly rises in a large concert hall that has been antiqued by time and passing companies. A tall dark man slowly makes his way to a large black grand piano center stage. The audience of elite individuals there for the popularity and music lovers there for enlightenment, applaud at his entrance as the man nods back, with thanks. The audience quiets as he takes his seat on the piano bench, and he raises his hands above the keys. Concentrating, he closes his eyes and sets his mind free as he strikes the keys definitively, the sound growing into a hundred chords that build into a song that fills the audience with such emotion that they feel they are all there for the same purpose; to feel the music.
The piano man puts all his soul and reason into his music to give it a life of it's own. He can feel the music, its quality and voice, as he is thrown inside the chords and slurs of the melody. His fingers flow freely over the black and whites of the piano keys. Ebony and ivory, good and evil. All the same, yet each has its own distinction as the sounds and life of the music emerges. The song reaches to it's height of succession and falls slowly and quietly to its completion. Then all is quiet, the song is done.
The piano man lets out a breath of fulfillment as he rises, turns to the audience and bows. The listeners find that they are no longer in the music, but in the old, aged concert hall that has seen performers of past. They rise and let out a wild applause that fills the hall as flowers are thrown and "bravos" are yelled. There will be no encore, for all that could be said was said in that short piece of music. The man is still bowing and the audience still clapping when the curtain falls, darkening the stage.
These people, elite and music lovers alike, have felt a moment of oneness. For one instant, they all had one thing in common. It cannot be explained, for a connection was made to all who heard. Though all different, they were all the same, if even for a second. These people will never listen to music the same way again. They were all once part of living music. They gave it life as it gave them life in return, all due thanks to the piano man.
The piano man puts all his soul and reason into his music to give it a life of it's own. He can feel the music, its quality and voice, as he is thrown inside the chords and slurs of the melody. His fingers flow freely over the black and whites of the piano keys. Ebony and ivory, good and evil. All the same, yet each has its own distinction as the sounds and life of the music emerges. The song reaches to it's height of succession and falls slowly and quietly to its completion. Then all is quiet, the song is done.
The piano man lets out a breath of fulfillment as he rises, turns to the audience and bows. The listeners find that they are no longer in the music, but in the old, aged concert hall that has seen performers of past. They rise and let out a wild applause that fills the hall as flowers are thrown and "bravos" are yelled. There will be no encore, for all that could be said was said in that short piece of music. The man is still bowing and the audience still clapping when the curtain falls, darkening the stage.
These people, elite and music lovers alike, have felt a moment of oneness. For one instant, they all had one thing in common. It cannot be explained, for a connection was made to all who heard. Though all different, they were all the same, if even for a second. These people will never listen to music the same way again. They were all once part of living music. They gave it life as it gave them life in return, all due thanks to the piano man.
