The Counterpoint Poem by Rosmin Elsa Mohan

Started off, with a lullaby,
Lost memories that basked in the sun,
Gleaming rays to penetrate the wall
Where shadows mimicked to rally tall.
The minims that gave room aghast
To a halo where light did ran
But then they lured, swam forth
Crotchets; it all began.

The harmony.
I felt it at ease...
A thousand cellos that brushed aside
Negligence, hatred, Pride.
The air had begun to smell
Of lilies alongside.
The church bell meekly to uphold
The counterpoint
Behold!

The white that conveyed
Notes not written in black
The staccatos to jerk to core
And minuets to shack
Diminuendo.
Accelerando.
In turns did holy strike
The dead did rise
The ground did tear
The cacophony, ‘twas alike!

'The end's near', snarled the wise
The devil's on prowl; disguised.
I thought of it for a while
Niche; couldn't hold back a smile
For the simulataneity
Of the chords umpteen,
Did recreate in point,
Adjoint.
The Counterpoint.