When morning’s hush is pierced by gentle sound,
A single note that dances on the air,
Within that whisper, endless worlds are found,
A silver thread of wonder, light, and care.
It weaves through heart and memory alike,
Invoking joy, or drawing forth a tear,
In music’s arms our weary souls take flight,
Its symphony dispels all care and fear.
What art so deftly paints what words can’t reach?
What balm can soothe the wounds that time reveals?
The beauty found in music has no breach;
Its truth in every trembling silence feels.
From ancient pipes to digital delight,
Music endures—our darkness births its light.