Upon many days of silent pages I set forth on a journey.
I followed the river behind my house until I came to a lovely delta.
It was littered with papyrus plants  of a myriad of lengths.
I stepped into the silt on the banks, so cold and soft.

I wanted to wash away this wall of black silence.
Its strange that such words could bring me such solace,
But their silence would  only cause me anguish.
As i stepped back onto the opposite shore, I had arrived.

My goal was the piano that I had left here long ago.
Rough and nicked, it had long been left to the elements.
I sat upon the withered bench among the papyrus.
I began to play, playing to break the silence.

On sweet rigid keys I played notes of bizarre power.
It was out of tune from its long excursion in nature,
But that didn't mater. The notes held their own.
The strange sounds matched my strange writes.

With these notes that danced and  evoked such might,
I hoped to speak of the things I could not write.
It was power beyond will and might beyond majesty.
These thoughts and sounds would make Enoch proud.