As I go through the rituals of the day,
I hear the world.
Louder and louder,
As the clock ticks on.
The slow hum of morning,
Is gradually replaced
By the roar of noon.
But the droning roar of noon
Cannot compare
With the discordant cacophony
Of rush hour.
Then the clinking of glasses,
And the sounds from the kitchen,
And the scraping of forks,
All give way to the after dinner quiet.
As the sun sets,
The clouds roll in,
And the quiet evening
Gets quieter.
The howl of the wind is first,
And then the rapid fire of the rain,
And then the booms of thunder,
And the cracking of trees.
And then,
It stops.
All is quiet,
Nothing can be heard.
As I lay in my bed,
Revelling in this quiet,
I can finally hear my thoughts,
And listen to them.
But they scream,
And they wail,
And they won't leave me alone.
The silence is deafening.
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