By Sparsh Dhabarde
In shadows cast by an autumn's chill, The music paused, the world stood still. A dreamer fell beneath the night, Yet his spirit soared, a boundless light.
John of the chords, the voice, the tune, A poet beneath the watchful moon. He sang of peace, a world anew, Where love could bind the broken few.
From Liverpool's streets to the global stage, He broke the walls, unlocked the cage. "Imagine," he whispered, hearts took flight, In every lyric, a spark of light.
Yet hatred lurked where love should bloom, A tragic hand cast grief and gloom. The man was silenced, but not the song, His melody endures, forever strong.
For bullets cannot dim a star, His vision echoes near and far. In every strum, in every plea, Lives the dream of harmony.
So let us gather, hand in hand, And build the world for which he planned. Through music, love, and peace, we strive, For Lennon's dream is still alive.
By Sparsh Dhabarde
Comments