To the Pianist

Sit up, sit quietly, drop your shoulders,

raise your chest, relax your neck, and listen;
for all of the music ever written,
every sigh, every tear, every laugh,
is playing instantly, simultaneously, now,
freed of the temporal line that binds the player.

Wait until you hear it, until you feel its pulse;
and then, only then are you authorized
to place your hands upon the keys,
to allow the weight of your arm
to carry you downward, plunging
into the universal chorus.

Play it never boastingly, and never shyly,
for we are only one of the harmonies,
and even the most salient of our melodies
is but a counterpoint, suspended
against the tune of the Creator
and with the symphony of all of creation.