Pianista

In the dim-lit room, with shadows cast, A figure sits, the die is cast. With gentle touch, the keys come alive, In every note, emotions thrive. The pianista, poised with grace, In every chord, a world embraced. The music flows, a river's stream, In every sound, a distant dream. With fingers light, a dance begins, A symphony of losses, wins. The ivory keys, the ebony, In harmony, a melody. Each note a story, told so true, Of joy and pain, of old and new. In crescendos and soft refrains, The heart's own language, sweet remains. The room is filled with soulful cries, As music soars and gently sighs. The pianista, lost in sound, In every note, the world is found. Through every piece, a soul revealed, In every pause, a wound is healed. The power of the music's art, To touch the depths, to mend the heart. With eyes closed tight, the world retreats, In melodies, the soul completes. The pianista, bound by strings, To keys and chords, the spirit clings. The music speaks where words do fail, In minor keys, in major scale. A language pure, a voice so clear, The pianista's heart we hear. Each performance, a sacred rite, In morning sun, in dead of night. The gift of music, shared so free, In every note, eternity. For in the hands of one who plays, The world transforms, the spirit sways. The pianista, with heart and mind, Brings forth the beauty, unconfined. So listen close, with open heart, To every note, to every part. The pianista, through joy and strife, Breathes into the keys, the breath of life.