It's around five o'clock in the afternoon. I'm alone at home, and I've just awakened from a session of lucid dreaming. I head towards my room, and, as soon as I enter, I realize that the sun now gently shines its rays on our planet in the form of the slightly darkened atmosphere of my room. I close the curtains. The sunlight is scarce, but it's still there, like a glimpse of hope in the darkest of hours.
I sit down at the piano. For just a moment, and before I touch the piano, I close my eyes for a second. I remember how many great people have done the same thing I am about to do right now, and how they have sat in the same spot as me. Perhaps not in the same physical location or time, but that doesn't make a great difference to me. A musical instrument is a mirror of the soul to some, and to others it can be even more: it's where the soul speaks. That's why you can't place a date on proper music, for a soul should live as if it were to exist for an eternity. Perhaps it may have forgotten about the moment when it was created, and perhaps it doesn't know when it will pass on to the next life. But that should inspire it. Music can't be old, music can't be new. Music can be an echo of the most distant of pasts and the most haunting of futures, a place and time where no other soul has ever trodden before. Perhaps even more.
I open my eyes. I look at the keys with a keen eye and an alert conscience. It feels as if every key glows with character, as if each key was a whole new world waiting for me to discover and unravel its secrets. Which opportunity for visiting a beautiful world should I choose this time? My fingers hover over the keys, not knowing which one to pick. Suddenly, they stop. Slowly, I play the key over which my fingers stopped, and I listen to the note as it sounds until it dies out. I play it again, and I keep doing so until my soul resonates with the note. I am the note. I am the piano.
I start exploring the beautiful world in which I am now in. I start seeing more of that world as I move around the other notes on the piano. Once I've figured out the musical scale, I see the whole world unfolding in front of me. It expands and grows as I play the keys, and I explore it. As soon as the melody has been found, the world in which I exist sings with joy. Then come the chords, which give the world its rhythm. I move around, absorbing in all I can. Sometimes it's joy and mirth more than I could handle. Other times it's sorrow and woe more than I could imagine ever existed. Either way, the journey is always a beautiful one.
I then feel a change of moods; an inclination to play a different chord sequence or scale starts haunting me, so I do so. I, being the sole note I started playing originally, am still nothing but a soul. Then, some of the other notes around me start changing. Some are born, some die. At the same time. Beautifully horrifying, horrifyingly beautiful.
I explore the most distant of places and times, some which never existed until I visited them. I keep playing; sometimes with my eyes wide open, and other times with my eyes closed. I keep playing until I reach a natural stopping point, the point at which I've either found or created something new in myself. Perhaps a newly found passion for something old, perhaps an old friend discovered in a person I just met. Perhaps something else about myself that I know but don't understand. I'm not entirely sure.
I reach my natural stopping point. Gradually, I start playing slower and quieter. I finally reach the point at which I stop playing, and lift my fingers off the piano slowly. I sit there for a few moments, contemplating and internalizing this journey of mine. Perhaps my room has now become darker, but the new light in my soul outshines the darkness; the flame has been rekindled. I get up, leave my room, and face the world with a whole new outlook on myself.
I sit down at the piano. For just a moment, and before I touch the piano, I close my eyes for a second. I remember how many great people have done the same thing I am about to do right now, and how they have sat in the same spot as me. Perhaps not in the same physical location or time, but that doesn't make a great difference to me. A musical instrument is a mirror of the soul to some, and to others it can be even more: it's where the soul speaks. That's why you can't place a date on proper music, for a soul should live as if it were to exist for an eternity. Perhaps it may have forgotten about the moment when it was created, and perhaps it doesn't know when it will pass on to the next life. But that should inspire it. Music can't be old, music can't be new. Music can be an echo of the most distant of pasts and the most haunting of futures, a place and time where no other soul has ever trodden before. Perhaps even more.
I open my eyes. I look at the keys with a keen eye and an alert conscience. It feels as if every key glows with character, as if each key was a whole new world waiting for me to discover and unravel its secrets. Which opportunity for visiting a beautiful world should I choose this time? My fingers hover over the keys, not knowing which one to pick. Suddenly, they stop. Slowly, I play the key over which my fingers stopped, and I listen to the note as it sounds until it dies out. I play it again, and I keep doing so until my soul resonates with the note. I am the note. I am the piano.
I start exploring the beautiful world in which I am now in. I start seeing more of that world as I move around the other notes on the piano. Once I've figured out the musical scale, I see the whole world unfolding in front of me. It expands and grows as I play the keys, and I explore it. As soon as the melody has been found, the world in which I exist sings with joy. Then come the chords, which give the world its rhythm. I move around, absorbing in all I can. Sometimes it's joy and mirth more than I could handle. Other times it's sorrow and woe more than I could imagine ever existed. Either way, the journey is always a beautiful one.
I then feel a change of moods; an inclination to play a different chord sequence or scale starts haunting me, so I do so. I, being the sole note I started playing originally, am still nothing but a soul. Then, some of the other notes around me start changing. Some are born, some die. At the same time. Beautifully horrifying, horrifyingly beautiful.
I explore the most distant of places and times, some which never existed until I visited them. I keep playing; sometimes with my eyes wide open, and other times with my eyes closed. I keep playing until I reach a natural stopping point, the point at which I've either found or created something new in myself. Perhaps a newly found passion for something old, perhaps an old friend discovered in a person I just met. Perhaps something else about myself that I know but don't understand. I'm not entirely sure.
I reach my natural stopping point. Gradually, I start playing slower and quieter. I finally reach the point at which I stop playing, and lift my fingers off the piano slowly. I sit there for a few moments, contemplating and internalizing this journey of mine. Perhaps my room has now become darker, but the new light in my soul outshines the darkness; the flame has been rekindled. I get up, leave my room, and face the world with a whole new outlook on myself.
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