As i switched on the music , the sound of the piano spoke to my soul. I felt at one with the music. Each note whispered to me , whispers full of promises , whispers full of hope , whispers that gave me goosebumps , whispers that stirred my soul. 

I was lost in a world of wonder , in a world of unimaginable creativity , a world of wonder and dreams , a world of peace. 

There i could see , a virtuso in concerto. 

There was a pianist sitting on stage, surrounded by dark , caliginous black. Except for a shaft of light , a spotlight focused on him, glowing , glittering , a streak of bright light. 

The world watched as this maestro sat down in front of his Grand Piano and started to play. 

A soft melody at first , simple , but honest and beautiful. 

Each octave , his fingers moving over the paino keys, gracefully , blissfully , his fingers flowing over the keys , just as a artist paints his masterpeice. 

Moving on to a symphony, the music flowed through his veins , he was marinated in music. It consumed his entire body , it was part of every muscle of his, every cell of his. It enveloped him in a world of his own.  He was in some sort of a divine trance , lost somewhere in the middle of those notes. 

Adagio , like a placid and still lake.     Allegro like a river gushing down its rocky path.                                                     Crescendo, as if a freeflowing waterfall cascading down a hill at speeds unimaginable.                                                       Staccato , like the jerky , choppy and stormy waves of the ocean. 

He forgot the world around him , forgot all those piercing eyes that watched him. He was not aware anymore,  of all those critics sitting there and observing his work so carefully. 

It was just him and the music. Him and his Fantasia. 

Him and his wild heart, unhindered and uncaged , ebullient and extravagant.

 It was just him and his Magnum Opus.