Newly born
Squeals
Pitifully
A tiny voice raised high
Going nowhere
Confined
Confused
A single spot on the page

Then
It grows
And walks in waves and braves the کڑوا, تلخ wind
Shakily on its spindly legs, it smudges the paper
Singing its first tune
A tiny tune
Twirling and whirling
It grows taller
And tougher
With every beat of its half-grown heart
It grows

Joined سے طرف کی others
They sing together
A forgotten voice
A reflection
Of lost symphonies
Tooting their trumpets
They stand to attention
An army of discord
Marching forth
Into a brand new dawn