What is noise, if not a series of interruptions?
What is silence if it cannot be broken?
Corruption of thought, stirred until eyes screwed,
straining to make sense to hear,
The head is tilted, a noise consistent,
A bell ringing,
A pitch of petulance,
.A dog in pain.
A radio of Indian composition stretching the airwaves for clarity.
A promise not sustained.
An unreturned message.
A meeting missed again.
Louder repetitive work as walking to the endlessness of nonentity.
And the noise gets louder and screws
with the silence of contemplation.
Words tumble and lay – mishaps ensue,
sunken to the deep gasping for breath.
The final day to bring it all together,
The intrusion of doubt.
Rings at the gate.
Demanding to be heard