By Anvita Vaibhavi Tata
Hereby shall music call to creation.
A wide deep dance through dark and sunless valleys into a dream,
A soft-loud tune,
To them who listen, touches and perishes.
A procession of sheets from out of the blue into the forest of cosmos.
With a soft playful light of the wonderful moon.
The pulses in minuscule display a rhythm.
All meet at different rhythms.
By strings, winds, and drums this their grace;
Forming up for an immense auditorium,
Tome and thump of drums so overwhelming yet deeply soft;
Silver voices croon soulfully against.
They usher forth the unison of feeling and composure of mind,
Universal distant voices; a whisper by name,
From infinite tears unto idyllic pleasures.
The sense of existence in music rings true.
So let the song fly up into the sky:
That love, that hope, that caring wide.
To feel in every note, everything carries on,
Held for eternity in the arms of music.
By Anvita Vaibhavi Tata
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