a strange feeling

fingers touching ivory keys
white, white, white
a few blacks
here and there
interplay of speed, pressure, precision

fingers are like puppets on strings
they dance
bending to the puppeteer's will
the intricate steps
left, right, front, back
a little bit faster
a little more pressure
now release the crescendo
slow down to adagio

you cannot hear all these communication
but you can hear the melodies
they are right there
the heart of the puppeteer
his will, his energy, his emotions
his everything

but
sometimes the puppeteer is distracted
his mind is blank for a split-second
but (again)
the puppets never miss a single step
in fact, they are steps
that the puppeteer
has been dreaming of
to perfect the harmony
the steps fit the gap
completing the flow

it's
a strange feeling
it's as if the puppets move on their own
tugging the strings connected to their limbs and joints
"here, here. and here."
it's as if they understand
the beauty of their dance

then the show is over
but the images of the dance
are etched in his mind
the strange feeling
stays