The gentle golden notes of the guitar

Those that brew within the dark womb of the instrument

And are uttered by the strings as sweet honeyed tones

The violin with melancholy strains bids farewell

To departing souls and consoling the mourners in their grief

The tattoo of dexterous fingers on the face of the tabla

And of sticks beating rhythmically on drums

Creates a music reminiscent of falling hooves of racing steed

Or that of incessant patter of raindrops on metallic roofs

The music that emerges from the flute riddled with holes

Through which the wind plays hide and seek in tunnels

Reminds of the divine flute of God incarnate

That spun intoxicating music that was elixir to ears

The keys of the massive piano play saccharine strains

As nimble fingers ran on the black and white keys

They acted as tiny pedestals of the creations of Apollo

The chiming of the bells on the temple’s thresholds

In the rhythm of the holy hymns sung in reverence

And the melodious sound that emerges from the blowing conch

Like the music on the lips of the ocean draught

All soothe the bruised soul and harbor bliss

They make ordinary verse beautiful breathing life into the lines

That reverberates in the alleys of memory forever…