- Books, Literature, and Writing
some day dreams
The noise gives way,
one day and the only day
That seems to stay
is the one that started out that way.
The day devoid of noise.
The day, made up of relative poise.
The day I awoke, deaf and asking...
What is this gift?
How did I come by it?
I heard no machine,
no quaking and reverberating thing.
I heard no bird; no chirp
No sound; no quip; no bleep; no rip
I heard no answer to the questions unasked.
I heard nothing of my last
Simple, ‘what are you?’
I just awoke
To blessed silence.
I just became a mile of visual.
I just perfected the imperfect.
I just went to sleep while awake.