Hands on Hearts

starry

The hand grips the paintbrush so tightly that the knuckles turn a luminescent shade of white.

After a deep breath and the quick press of a button that sends the notes of a fast-tempo violin bursting through the speakers, the hand unclenches.

The heart is beating in the fingertips, keeping up with the steady rhythm of Beethoven as the hand raises the paintbrush, coated in a starry and promising yellow paint, to the fresh canvas.

And as the brush connects with the canvas and every dream flows onto the surface, the hands grow more confident, as if falling into the comfortable familiarity of a rhythmic dance.

They no longer struggle to remain constant and steady, already forgetting the storm they left behind.