His Best Piece

I was standing in the back of the auditorium, listening to the Grano brothers perform a piece they wrote, for Tigers Roar. I had 2 days to write a new speech, and they were my inspiration, i had to add in imagination, but i hope you like it, my new speech.

some musiians pull you in so deep
you feel intoxicated in familiarity
you wish you could share their talents and join them on stage
you watch them as i watch him in his best piece

he presses his fingers to the strings
he starts a tempo in his hands
he counts off in his head
then his magic spreads

sound fills the air
he plucks, the steel viberates
his hands strums the string
sweet music begins for me

my mind is soaring ignoring everything else
as i watch him play more and more
the melodies runing and falling
the harmonies dancing above in the air i'm breathing

his music is special
its flowing inside him like the blood in his viens
its branded in his memory
so beautiful, the music he's making

i listen to the rhythm of my pulse
follows the beat of his feet, it does
carrying his strumming hands
making it all flow smoothly

the notes that fill the air
paint pictures in my mind
dancing on a stage, sining in the rain
the guitar is leading, leading the way

the sweet polyphonic rhythms picks up tempo
a more complicated tab ours out of his soul
his fingers are flying between frets
up tuning, down tuning, still he keeps steady

the symphonic sounds of the six strings
more complex to me than it seems
i'm in awe of the music
the magic his fingertips bring

the beauty that coats the crisp air
putting glory into what was previously empty
if only i could keep this in me like the air i'm breathing
then i could fly like i had wings

i'd fly through a staff of music notes
like i'd press the piano keys
my voice would soar in perfect pitch
beauty would live in my fingertips

but i can't capture his magic
its wrapped in his heart
stronger than his mindset
which makes his music perfect

with increddible accuracy, he never misses anything
playing with intensity, unknown to many
i don't even know if he can tell i'm watching
following every graceful movement he's making

he never hesitates, keeps away from syncopation
dynamics are changing...
he lifts his head away from the guitar he's holding
eyes closed, relaxed as can be

his emotions are hidden well
but i know him, he glances out
a smile edging on his lips
pure bliss reflecting in the blue of his eyes

he looks away to his fleeting fingers
now simple strokes and easy beats
replace the overwhelmingly graceful complexity
my awe is in the honey sweet simplicity

the tempo seems to slow
it leaves my heart beating quickly
i wish i could avoid the ending
i'm so afraid to interupt but i want to ask him to keep playing

i know he'd play till his fingers start bleeding
till his muscles are raw and rigid
he'd play till every drop of passion was poured out of him
thill his guitar strings were broken and frayed

he's composing this piece

as if he were writing the story of a life
with every crooked path and uphill battle
every bittersweet loving movement his music is the life he's living

i feel its the finale
the last pulling of the strings
the sound is so quiet my ears are softly straining

to take in every ping of the strings
imprint it on my memory
let it constantly flow through me
and never have an ending

i close my eyes to keep this going
i hear the last viberation of each guitar string
he's brought the sound back to perfect tunning
and in the quiet is one more melodious strumming

what fills the silence is his slow breathing
and the sounds that echo in my memory
i open my eyes
and i know his song was for me