Ornaments

Feeling blue, I know that I can
Alleviate my
Sadness through music.

I can't express my feelings
Verbally
So I sit at the piano in
Darkness.
I let my fingers find their way.

Bypassing cliched "blue" chords
And technically flamboyant
Ornaments;
I return to basics.

The music begins:
A simple note.
It turns into a triad;
an Arpeggio;
a quaver run.

It swells magnificently until
My fingers run over the manual
Like Quicksilver.

Uncomfortable tension is
Built up, as I
Modulate
Relentlessly and

What I feel,
Releases itself, free at last,
Through my fingers.

Very soon, I am tired,
But my fingers continue still,
Desperate for relief,
Until my pleasure
Becomes my torment.

Tortured, by what makes itself known,
What comes from my Id,
I rip my fingers from the piano,
An unresolved chord.

And I know I will not sleep tonight,
Reliving this suspension,
But knowing it cannot be finished.

So, detached, I live in suspended
Animation.
Waiting until I can face my fear.
Again.