magnets can pull
bits of sound
in analog, trapped
on a strip
until it falls
off or is
transferred to another
medium. before long
the quiet will
be deafening and
those magnetic bits
will be shed
into the universe
but for now
it is all
that exists and
yet in black
boxes all across
the globe people
are pulling digital
copies, mere duplications
of this sound,
into their homes
and ears and
lives and crying
in shame and
disappointment for a
system that can't
seem to break
some things down
fast enough. those
words, that one
word repeated twice,
so fragile and
exquisitely sad and
final makes babies
of us all,
fathers of us
all, mothers of
us all. those
delicate pleas resonate
against the ear
drums, and like
the arm that
shook back and
forth recording such
wavelengths, or the
digitized bits that
became a voice
surrounded in hazy
background, will now
be recorded in
the soft matter
of oxygen filled
heads for as
long as that
articulation can maintain
networks for blood
receptors for chemicals
and alleys for
discomfort and disappointment.
after all is
said and done
nothing restores order
nothing returns those
breathy air waves
back to rightful
owners, unless you
believe in life
after this life
a purpose beyond
this one purpose
a loving god
and faith that
nothing can be
reversed nothing can
be removed but
perhaps those waves
set into motion
can eventually return
to the shores
of a soul
completing the whole
for entry into
someplace greater than
what exists here.
--
3.21.12
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