Beneath the maw of the sky so black,
I sit tonight with my tunes of peace,
Giving a piece of calm to strangers,
Blessing them with a soulful breeze;

It is music that heals the soul, yes,
That sews the gashes up with love;
That smoothens the wrinkles of time,
That smoothens corners so rough;

Music hews a sculpture into time,
Makes murals of seconds and moments;
We browse not only through our songs, nay,
But gaze at these figures that are so reminiscent;

Of times spent in glee, of times spent in tears,
Of times when bursts of joy destroyed all fears;
Of times when a jolt broke the heart into two,
Of times when the winds of love again blew;

Music wraps it all in parcels of time,
Memories stored in binary;
If we’re trapped in this unending cycle of time,
Then it is only music that shall set us free.

Ashutosh