His eyes are closed.
His face seems to finally be at peace.
His fingers flow with grace many would kill for.
The shiny black and white keys react beautifully to his touch.
There is nothing for him to read,
The piece is entirely of him.
He doesn't know I'm here.
He has secluded himself from the universe.
The song is pure beauty
Haunting yet gentle,
It's rises and falls more fluid then water.
Each note, each chord perfect.
The melody builds in tempo,
Becoming more complex with each passing beat.
Then, just as slowly, it decresendos back to the simplicity from whence it came.
He finishes, a smile highlighting his angelic face.
I swallow and speak softly
"You play like that and honestly believe you don't have a soul?"