The Beginning of The End

The giant floor-to-ceiling windows drip with fresh rain. There, in the center of the glass, a handprint fades. It is mine, from the moments I took to observe the busy and shuffled streets below me. The weightless feeling as I looked 20 stories down, into the city that never sleeps, made me dizzy. I blink hard to ease the wavering and when I open them I am no longer at the window. Now, as I look down, is not a jumble of yellow taxis, or aromas of cased meats. There are no errands to be run, no brand name clothes, no comedy shows, and no disturbance. There is only the piano, my hand itching to touch its ivory keys. One finger falls, gently on to the cold white surface. This sensation sends a shiver down my spine. I need more.

 I add more fingers to the row of keys, all just as cold as the first. I am yearning for more, I grab at the structures as if they were food..as if they were nourishment. Suddenly, my fingers swell in a wave, and the most beautiful melody digs its way out from the depths of the piano. Colors begin to dance around the room and ricochet off the walls. I am surrounded by sound and it is warm, and it is welcoming. I feel my body begin to levitate off the bench. The frequencies slowly start to maneuver my willing limbs through the waves of colors and sounds. And just as I start to close my eyes, to become one with the beings that now filled the room-it all stops. I stop. 

 The room is silenced, the essence of the melody is still bouncing off the walls, like an echo, but I can't hear it. The room is alive, the world has stopped, and I am shaking. My hands poised above the keys, ready for more but I know my body can not take it. I blink, hard. I feel the last drops of colors drip from my eyelids as I squeeze them closed. When I open them I am in a different place..I am at the beginning.