it is night
soft night
the stars are silent in the blackness
which has the look of the eyes of a newborn creature
starry and soft, a velvet purple blue
hinting at nebulas and the turnings of galaxies
a place vaster than possibly imagined
from which this new soul has just departed
and taken its first breath

she turns from the window
the night air is a soft breath against her cheek
her hair downy like a faun's wing
new and wondrous, floating

her eyes are as deep as the night sky
and her soul as dark as the voice of a piano
as the chords rise to envelop
and fall ever so softly, ever so woundedly
on the night air

Her heart opens when the piano starts
and the turnings of the music are like the turnings of galaxies
it falls slowly into the soul
you are melting
you are alone, you do not move
the orchestra is the night sky
soft as the darkest velvet
against which piano chords shine like constellations

echoing in that vast space as if at the nave
of a medieval church that has seen centuries

it turns, the music
it hopes, it yearns
quietly, alone
at night

the blackness descends into the bass
that deep fullness fills
and brims
and melts
and falls away into silence