it is like

the excitement of opening a new book, words ready to leap from the page and into a universe in which you have never before visited, imagination forming newness in color, in image, opening your eyes formerly filled with sleep, surrounding your head full of foggy worries, and ushering them into the hall, for awhile. the feeling of your skin on the piano keys, a brief push, nearly imperceptible and like magic, the world with it’s rage and anxiety hushes as music pours from the depths of your body through instrument and fingers and keys, a song of creation in your hands as they retrace the movements of the saints and artists before you, like a secret ticket into the land of light. the moment you enter, trembling, into your world, yet not your world. You open the cover, bare feet grazing the soft earth beneath, the amazement past description. Worry and Anxiety are left behind in their grey suits, businessmen whose work is no longer needed. And you, your body now an instrument itself, will ring out the finest music, just by being, will create universes unending as you run, unhindered, up the path, through the garden, warm, familiar, and brand-new.