Can you hear it?
The black
darkness calls out to the rising sun
The sea
draws down the mountail rills
The bud is
called out by the crystal snow
Grass by
frozen hills
Silence
screams out for birdsong
An empty
wall for a brush stroke bold
Grief
pleads for a warm embrace
And pain
for a hand to hold
What are
the sounds that fill our ears
What
impulsions clench our straining fists?
What are
the voices that call us forward
Muse sirens
parting our future mist?
Ticker tape
ticker tape tapping code
Tapping out
life’s minuted abode
Ticker tape
ticker tape unvaried rhythm
Beeping,
marking, recording time
Ticker tape
ticker tape using space
Till one
day, ticker tape stops and dies
