RHYTHM

Rishabh Matta

Whether low buzz or drumming triumphant,
Even macabre mourning abundant,
A divine song dances on these winds,
Especially in the confession of sins.
Rattling leaves or upset shareholders,
Music just is, with or without beholder.
But my ears are so fragile! They wince at decibel.
Which is worth it I guess, since your voice is caramel.
It’s crazy how much you sound like the tide,
When all that’s here are cars passing by.
How do you make that voice fractal and ripple?
Such that the joy of you still cripples?