Steps on to the podium,
Takes his bow.
In thin air, his baton draws,
Invisible patterns.
To the first swing,
A breeze plays,
Prelude,
Shivering the leaves.
A brisk move of his baton,
Waves catch up with
A grandeur note,
And then going silent
The prelude over,
Through adagios,
Allegros and allegrissimos
Symphony plays.
Rain comes down,
Playing solo,
To its receding tone,
Birds chirping.
Symphony mesmerizes,
Then as a fugue it plays
Notes of destruction.
Where everything comes to an end.
Alas
When silence plays,
Nothing is heard,
But men, silently weeping.
Sparrows of Mohenjodaro
8 years ago