In the throat's secret chamber, veiled from sight, Reside the cords that weave our voices bright, Soft tissues poised within the larynx deep, Where sound and speech from silence gently leap.
When breath flows forth, a whispered stream unites, With vocal cords that dance like strings of light, Vibrating to the rhythm of our soul, Crafting melodies that make us whole.
Muscle and membrane, a delicate blend, With every tightening and gentle bend, They shape the pitch, the tone, the melody, A symphony of human artistry.
From whispers soft to thunderous refrain, The vocal cords, in harmonious strain, Project our thoughts, our passions, and our joys, In spoken word or song's melodious poise.
But fragile too, this gift of vocal grace, A whisper lost, a hoarse and rasping trace, Injury or illness, a silent toll, Where once rang out the music of the soul.
Oh, vocal cords, in your mysterious ways, You gift us language, songs, and heartfelt praise, A symphony within, a wondrous chord, Resounding essence of our voice restored.
