Hello, UG.

I finished this literally ten seconds ago and wanted to post it up before I could second guess myself on anything, so here it is:

(C4C Appreciated)

The Organ

If white is the blush of life,
Leaving black as it's opposite,
Then my fingers
between the two dimensions
producing proud, multi-octave
proclamations of grandeur
almost mockingly in nature.
They cry out from my lighthouse
Kicking cobwebs at the source
Inspiring the torchlight to shine farther
With their booming, unconquerable rhythms
That serve as signals
To wealth beneath the salt

at times my fingers trip,
They strumble,
They crack,
Upon pasty palace floors.
And wail, sending the gothic chandelier
Trembling back and forth, to and fro
They move as cripples
Humiliated, and shamed.
They scream their melancholy sagas
Begging for that
One pressurized ear's attention

And as I pound away carnival melodies,
I allow them no respite.
As long as I am alone,
they will see no rest either.
The torch grows dimmer every day,
and with it, my hope.
No matter how blinding the lamp,
How cacophonous the beats,
and bars,
and measures,
No matter the waves of water and alcohol
That are filling up my home,
and taking souveniers when they regress
My bones will not
Until my treasure is found and dredged
From the salty foam that dared to claim her.
My fingers lose their balance
They slip more readily, and dance no more.
And more recently
I find myself dreading the day when my fingers
come to a rest,
on ebony keys.
Last edited by Blueslushee at Dec 15, 2009,