Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm.
Feet on pavement, bike-chains clicking.
Rushing. Can’t be
late. Didn’t leave early.
Senseless noise.
Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm.
Chattering in a hollow room, chairs screeching across the
floor.
Silence. A single voice
in front. People position themselves in
their chairs.
Does this make sense?
Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm.
Alarms shrill, blankets rustle.
Closing door, Squeaky faucets opening.
Do we mean this?
Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm, Rhythm.
Always on our way, places we must go.
Sitting, Standing, Opening, Closing, Noise, and Silence.
Is this all we are?
No comments:
Post a Comment