. . . As if Words of Black Ink were Written on White Keys . . .
Perhaps you are familiar with the feeling of it,
as if it were a kiss, as if it were a dance, as if you were just narrating poetry. The flux of music flows through us like magically sparkling Water from the Universe. It is in an "instrument" where we let our voice speak beyond us purely, freely, exploring, creating, believing, expressing.
I hereby present you my voice, as Light as the sun shinning a brand new day over a vast field of green grass,
and as Dark as the shadows of the white moon casting its secrets over a violet lake.
Ode to Fugue
Absence of the Moon