Sunday, December 28, 2008


From my white window beauteous
Hangs a windchime since many days,
Seven sticks of whose in delight plays,
My life’s musical notes as it sways.

With every blow of air and each drop of rain,
The windchime starts to sing and swing,
To remove the patches of unheard pains.

The memories when usher sleepless nights,
The seven sticks join to sing lullaby
Soothing the soul, the music turns
Pained memories to a lifelong gain.

In the vastness of my blue skies,
My heart, like a small paper kite flies,
My mind’s strings doesn’t let go-
My mercy pleas to sorrows in denial dies..

Yet dances merry the fragile kite in the sky,
With every beat of the old windchime
And when my heart loses its path and weeps,
The windchime’s tunes holds me aloft and high..

Whenever the soothing air seems far away,
And gloomy remains the world, all night and day
Hope is what my windchime never loses..
The hope of air, and the hope of rain
And the hope itself becomes "The Music of Silence".