Perhaps the music blasting in our ears

The sidestep glance across the bakery counter

The honk of horns zooming fluorescents down the street

The gentle mummur of garlic sizzling on pans

The crunch of rich Italian bread soaked in olive oil

The sweat of leather soles

The mystifying fogginess as one touches a cheek

The relentless sputter of summer rain

The crackle of a brilliant smile

And noiseless or brimming with spectacles

We are most afraid of absolute silence

For that suggests our inability

To be a part of something

Bigger than ourselves