December 21, 2010
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My imagination running wild
My fingers yearning to touch
These eighty-eight keys
There is no magic as such

I stretch out my fingers
My rigid stance relaxed
I press down my hands
And I play with my knack

A long line of heaven
Flows out of the strings
Nothing compares
To the sweet, sweet ring

Not simply black and white
Truly a spectrum of sound
In this state of solitude,
The music surrounds

Colors in the air
Flying overhead
Blessed are they
All this music that I have read

Sweat on my brow
Whilst sitting on my seat
Tingles running through my body
Traveling out of my feet

Hypnotizing trance
More graceful,
More heartbreaking,
Than a ballerina’s dance.

High on music
High on life
I am awake
I am alive

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