We keep searching
Amplifiers to extend us,
We shout loud
To absorbing walls,
Sound proof, isolated,
Only to fail to hear our own voices.

It is a deed to all ears
To seek the frequencies,
The rhythm underneath
The hollow sounds of the surface.

We ought to peel
Watchful for signals
Of resonance,
Respect the echoes
That strengthen ourselves.

Life is revolving,
Every straight line,
Extended enough,
Will meet its own end,
Ending on a beautiful circle
To be part of a particular cadence,
Its own rhythm.

Everything can be measured
In revolutions per minute.