Lonely Keys

A faint sound, the hum of the computer in the corner of the dark room. A glow of the monitor, eyes closed. In search of a melody to inscribe a feeling within a language of twelve notes. Head down. Drifting through the vibrations travelling across the wires, translating from thought to motion to binary. The timbre inspires transitions, shifts the muscles of the hand, guiding them along the white and black keys. Floating from chord to chord, octave to octave. A concentrated release of memory hoping to fulfill itself. Frustration muddles the mix, the progression contaminated by taut emotions, swaying away from the emptiness. Through infinite possible combinations, only a fraction is necessary, perhaps lesser still lies in waiting, seeking revelation. The sonic message evading the grasp of composition. A moment of silence before the screen goes dark, the lonely keys untouched for another night.