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Monday, July 16, 2012
Noise
One thing my senses struggle to accept,
In my days of morning shifts,
Is the dialogue of life.
When does it become music
When does it become noise
What differentiates the two?
The grey area within.
The silence in the train on the
Way to work. Occasionally
Interrupted by beats from
Earphones, and the
Flipping of pages
Of newspapers and
Worlds of fiction through
Paperbacks.
Then I enter my familiar
Landscape that some call their office
The air which my body remembers
And responds to with
Energy coursing
Through the head.
Work ends, and I head home.
In a train of conversations.
Murmurs, and phone calls
Overheard.
Some plug in their earphones
To block out the sound
Or ambient noise
Or verbal music?
Others just stand and gaze
And absorb and accept
That maybe at the end
Of time, we might
Never understand ourselves.
