Crackle, crackle

On a sunny, brisk day, I sat there with my back to a crackling fire heating the little expanse that I call home. Plunking away on the black and white "ivory" keys, my mind is taken to many different places, some are wonderous musings, others are glim snapshots of the past. Under a cloud of oppression that is seemingly ready to break open, I pray to God to let the spiritual winds just blow this away.

As I played through the first part of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata", the gloominess was ever present, but as the song played out, there were moments, highlights if you will, of streaks of Sun coming through. A rather slow piece, filled with shots of excitement, I'm reminded of much of my past as I trudge forward with the present. Moving on to other pieces--my fingers really seemed to move well, stroking each key in almost perfect timing, speed and accuracy--I started to feel as if I were a concert pianist. Far from that I really am, but the music was a delight to my ears and those of my cats, one healthy and chirping, and the other struggling against some sort of infirmity that thus far has been undiagnosed due to the strangeness of his symptoms.

Between the turning of the pages, a crackle highlights the silence, returning my mind back to the present, if only for a moment. As I concluded my finger exercises with Claire De Lune by DeBussy--the gleaming light shines in as the piece unfolded into a delectable, resonating fluid collection of notes all merging together to form a pleasant, unraveling solitude that reminds me of my position in the world, and more importantly, my position in Christ.

Amidst the clapless finale of the piece, I am faced with hunger for a past-due lunch, and ever more crackling from the glowing, dancing flames as I veil the keys with their protective covering--onward to continue the glorious day with the looming of a cloud of nastiness seeking to rain its' drenching wretchedness upon a void in my life--or make me believe something that isn't so.