nothing surpasses the beauty,
the spectacular rhythm
whirlwinds of enthused notes
bejeweled like ripe dew drops
on clear, crisp cerulean-blue sky days
when the world is teetering into a ricochet of memories
and an unfurling of colors
behold, their magnificence
casting storms, smudges, highlights
in the structures of our faces
in the marrow of our bones,
the melodies criss cross and intertwine
clutching onto the remaining casts of
sunlight's glow, a swelling feeling
in the canals of my chest, flooded with
the emotions carrying the sediments
from dominances far, far from those days
of silence, of a quiet which
eroded the ebb, the pocket of singing voices