The Voice Of Music

I cascade down like a river into their ears,

The words that I speak, the rhythm that bounds them together,

Fills their minds, souls and hearts with euphony and wells up their eyes with sweet or sour tears.

Perilous may it seem; I can either heal or rack one with guilt and make their minds go hither and thither.

Glorified, I have been for years on end,

Ever so beautiful and magical I still am, invariably imbuing mixed emotions in them,

Sometimes adored, sometimes loathed. One might criticize, another might commend,

But, ever so beautiful and magical I still will be and invariably imbue mixed emotions in them.

Yes, my glory will persist for the long haul,

But, like so many of you, with time I will change too.

To one I might averse, another I might enthrall,

Don’t you, however, have factious quarrels over me. Every configuration of me has its own value.

Therapeutic sure I am. Imagine living without me.

Will you not need me at times when you come home feeling weary and frantic?

Will you not need me when, from the indignation and misery, you want to be free?

Think again. One day if I am gone forever will you not, even for a second, panic?

I am a myriad of invisible colours.

Colours that have magic in them; they either paint you blue or pink.

You either crouch down and cry tears of rue or frolic around, unbothered about the thoughts of others.

Think again, will you? Underestimate, disdain or try to replace me, and one day I will disappear before you even blink.

~ Riddhi Chakraborty

Notes: This was inspired by Alfred Lord Tennyson’s ‘The Brook’ following it’s use of extended metaphor.