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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

I sit at my dominating black beauty, warmly looking down at her many fingers, and up at one of her many sets of directions. They show me in what way I could begin to fathom dancing our fingers against each other but they never give away the secret. The secret that whispers out in overtones and echos in the cold wide-open void when I tap her golden foot. An atmosphere I am free to fill to whatever extent she deems worthy. When I lift my numb foot to depress her own, while shunning her fingers, the wind blows throughout her body and mine and we are colder together. A subtle cry of a very young and less mature beauty penetrates the cold wind and I cannot bear to have taken this away from her. The ripping of music from her bowels because she could not stand to sustain nothingness. Carefully, I enter the enigma that are her directions. I trip and stutter and do her no justice at all except one subito piano soft touch on her cheek, and a look into her eyes before I slip and force myself back into slow motion. But she waits for me. It’s so sad and spectacular all at once because of all the people and all the great things they could tell her and do for her while I… I am just…an inquiring flea who wishes to be a speck in her universe, should she permit it. I am sad for her willingness to let someone like me woo her. Someone like me dancing with her until I cannot, and I fall asleep on my cross arms upon her own, and she says nothing. She would cradle me forever, it seems, while filled with such unearthly combinations of love and excitement bearly at her fingertips, and she says nothing. She gets rather lonely when no one speaks to her, and the pang of this familiarity is, in the very least, for me a need to sit by her night after night playing her neglected prodigious hands until warm. Her voice quavers with mine and we are warm.

Posted

wow, I love this. I love the way you have created a lover's relationship here, the dance, the elegence and beauty is conveyed fantastically.

 

"dancing our fingers against each other "

 

wonderful imagery that takes the first image of merely playing the piano, or the piano letting you play her, and the world you create twists so that the piano comes alive at the music. (or so I see it )

 

You capture here in words a feeling I am sure that all lovers will feel. That which you hold so high, see as so beautiful and so above you, deigning to grace you. It's a surreal thought, and that sureality is shown, and yet it happens (Thankfully!)

 

There is more to be said, much much more, but dinner be ready o_O so, great stuff!!!

 

<center><img src="http://www.thegreathall.org/miscgraphics/hopper_wolfsig.jpg"></center>

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