THE PIANO PRAYER
The piano listens, and
in the words of its quiet thunder,
a distance is wrapped in fingerprints.
Left ringing in my ears,
I hear their chambers of sense,
like drops falling on another’s skin.
Running into the arms of sensation,
sounds of fingers praying on human stone,
fingers falling on resonating lives.
Chambers of intricate fusion
and notes drawn from silence
are torn from the uncoiling rocks of symbols.
Works of procession,
like a wandering of bones
into stars and back again.
Like the bandages of senses,
such an unpredictable transformation
like a crack forming in the sky.
Something like private rapture
or private despair.
Just another reaction,
on a normal walk down the street.
It is the same street others walk on
thrown far into the distance.
We say sometimes,
small things don’t matter and great things do.
But nothing is left to remind us
of our forgotten choices of perspective.
The music of a body’s power
before it was forgotten.
Sometimes our creations
splash back to the waters of loss forever.
There we end up.
in tangents of temperament,
and jettisoned worlds of dreams and visions,
paper crushed into the form of humanity.
A rush of mixed senses comes
to feel the wonders of obscurity:
blurred and broken and whole.
It is still as it should be.
Note: Synesthesia is a perceptual phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to involuntary experiences in other ones.