This sound
Ratttling and swirling
Vibrating and howling.
Listen. Listen
The still trees.
The still birds
Listen and wonder.
Take the time to listen.
Stop and listen.
What can you hear?
The patter of rain or of feet?
The stamping of feet or the flutter of birds?
The twinkle of stars?
That sound
That beating sound
in your chest.
The murmur of now, of being alive
The sound of your breath.
The squeak of the shoes on the tennis court.
We forget
The sound of everyday
We filter it out, like pain
Like bad memories or days of shame
Like news of disasters or wars in far off lands
The beauty of sound
The roar of the road or the trickle of the stream
Which can we control?
Or be controlled by?
That ever lasting need
Transport, transport
We forget ourselves
Thinking ourselves permanent
But in fact we pass but once
Through this world
We must make ourselves heard
Or accept normality
The state of resignation
Surrender to ourselves.
Those landmarks
Made by peoples long ago
Lie broken , forgotten
Why they were built
What sounds they made
We can but guess.
That sound.