One hand touches the keys, and then he places the other. His hands press down, softly, gently, and beautiful music is released. His body sways and shoulders rock back and forth as his fingers flow gracefully across the keys, left, right, forward, back… his head nods in time to the sonata, and his eyes close as the music consumes him. Note after note he plays, peacefully, quietly.
The air in the room seems to make the audience drowsy, many caught in time with his swaying. Entranced, hypnotized, captivated by the soothing beauty of the composition.
A minor key conveys the tears welled up inside of life, the sorrow. It cries and wails, weeping for what was and what can no longer be. Please, please, it say sometimes, heart aching for comrades or yearning for things to stay the same, for maybe, maybe, just a little longer. The tears fall from the pianist’s eyes, remembering, wishing. He sighs as his shoulders move, his face contorted in the memories of his past. Gently, the tears give way to joy as they weaken, those sorrows gone forever, but still locked in the notes of the music.
Then a loud crescendo brings everyone awake! His fingers now pounding as they fly across the keys! Just as quickly, the music dies away so it can barely be heard, fading away into the distance… going, going, going… One last note resounds in the room, and the pianist stops, almost freezing in place. His hands fall to his lap, and he sits still as beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He breathes heavily, but then he smiles.
What a grand and joyous thing, the expression of the soul through the wonders of music. A wordless expression, now strong and loud, now painfully yearning for freedom from sorrow. Smiles and joy, tears and heartache. Anger! Jealousy! It becomes a pounding escape from the world, or a gentle release from the stresses of life. The agonizing movement and performance, such feeling in silently expressed words! Silent, yet portraying such great emotion.
A simple black and white, revealing the color in live. A withdrawal from the world, or an explanation of feeling. Cold, heavy days, leaves swirling down in circles, children, playing outside. … the stories of life, written without words.
The pianist stands and bows as the applause grows, then silently leaves, knowing that his story has been told.
His story a wordless expression, yet that of the soul, the gift of music.
One of my late-night scribblings after practicing piano. I ran up to bed after talking to my parents and saying goodnight and had to grab my little black notebook on the way into my room... Inspired by Beethoven's "Pathetique Sonata - Adagio," in particular, but mostly by piano sonatas in general.
“Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” – Victor Hugo