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Do you see the stories you tell, when your fingers touch the piano, and when your voice makes those sounds? How even my spine is surprised by its beauty, but also its sadness...How I understood that those sounds you made, with your fingers moving like it was your last action before taking the breath that would be your last, that were so sad, yet they sounded finished, more then you'd ever be. How the light shined in your eyes, but it was different, like it were tears wanting to stream down. Wanting to flood, like a powerful river down the ways that we call a face...How you wanted to say and to speak so badly, but just couldn't speak a word...So you played, so you smiled and said it was okay, even while your fingers moved like someone who had no choice, who had to dance over the seas and the oceans, who had to run over all the mountains there are, who had to walk over all the roads you did not take...How loud the sounds of it were, yet you seemed so quiet...How it seemed like the only sound you could ever make, were those tones, oh so sad yet oh so beautiful. 'Cause beauty and sadness often come together, as I can see with you How your voice gave me the feeling of listening to an angel, but it do was one who had lost their wings...One who could not fly, and expressed this devastation in a song, that they hoped no one would hear...How you sang, and played the instrument with Grace and beauty, yet devestation and sadness...How all of that combined, made the most amazing song ever...Yet it was so, so sad.