Three Pianists

A vision seeps into my mind, of a concert of spirit pianists. Three pianos all told, one to the right of me made of the finest ivory, one to the left, of pure obsidian.  The last lay directly behind me, and no turn or mirrored reflection will show it, but it is heard all the same, providing the methodical backbone, the deep notes keeping pace for the others as I walk this world. At my right hand, the unseen pianist plays with vigor, producing notes at a dizzying pace, the tune like that of so many bumblebees is flight. The sound from the left is a chilling melody, still audible and growing in strength as the days continue on, slow and enchanting in its dark tune, once unknown but now becoming so familiar.  Each of the three augments the others, each of the three taking the lead, or seeming to, when their turn has come. I begin to wonder how much of the change in the song is manufactured by the artists, and how much is simply a trick of my perceptions, as I walk the lonely road, spurred on by the sweetly haunting music, uncertain of my final destination.

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~ by songoflove on April 7, 2017.

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