Erik Satie

 

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.

~ BlackFeatherStill