I am a prisoner
of the present.

The monotony of cacophony
subdues the depth of calm.
The tyranny of sound
will not cease and desist.

But for a moment I am free:
I hear nothing; I feel nothing.

         Sanity.

            At least that's how I perceive it,
But only for that moment.

A single engine's burst
or the song which birds chirp
reinstate the madness
from which I run.

I suppose this is being human.
I should have been a cloud.