Blackness Between the Keys

he sits at 
the edge of his stool. at 
the end of things. 
a tumultuous tower before 
the edge of void, pressing in;
a piano key hit 
press before the void of what
we do not know. every sight 
to be seen stares back at us now. 
him pressing those keys
playing piano, head tossed back 
     gazing up to sky
          and seeing
     our lasting resonance 
our song played with closed eyes, blackness
before the blackness 
     a finale 
          every part of our own making. 
     the possibility of an encore 
          playing freely
          unrestricted, for these are our final moments 
     when nothing else matters
     not even missing the space between the keys.

Poetry and photography by Hazel J. Hall.
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