"A note, a whisper, Falling like autumn leaves, Cascades of sound, Filling the empty spaces Of a heart once still. Strings hum, a silent call, Pulses, beating rhythms, A dance of fingers, Brushing against the wind, Lost in a timeless embrace. A melody unfolds, Cracks in the silence, Echoes of forgotten dreams, Glimmers of starlight, Caught in a net of chords. The piano weeps, Soft and tender, A lullaby for the weary, A refuge for the broken, Notes dissolving into twilight. Trumpets burst, golden dawn, A clarion call, a new day, Feet tapping, hearts racing, In the dance of life, Where music is the soul's language. Whispers of a violin, Lonely yet hopeful, A story untold, Written in the spaces Between the rising and falling notes. A drumbeat, the heartbeat, Of a thousand souls, Unified, transcendent, Bound by invisible threads, Woven into a tapestry of sound. Guitar strings sing, Voices intertwining, A harmony born of chaos, Finding order, finding peace, In the symphony of existence. And there, in the quiet aftermath, Where echoes fade to nothing, A silence filled with promise, A space where music begins anew, In the scribbles of a poet's mind. ©twisha ray"