the rain outside sounds like paper being crumpled,
the winds similar to pages of a book being turned.
descending planes become the way one strums a guitar;
all of the strings vibrate loudly,
and sl o w l y l o s e t h e i r v o i c e s.
i hear the stars singing,
their lonely songs echo through the darkness that is space.
empty space,
full of distant planets,
lonesome, chorusing stars,
lost meteors,
and long forgotten space debris.
at last, the rain and winds have ceased.
silence.
i have never considered silence as an absence of noise,
because silence itself is something you hear.
i often hear silence as a siren.
someone, somewhere, somehow,
is asking for me,
begging for my help.
someone is wishing for their desperate pleas to be heard.
i hope they know that they are not alone.
sometimes i think about how divided people are.
but darling, this world is compressed in more ways than one.
the only things that divide us are thin plaster walls,
thousands of footsteps,
and clothing.
do not forget that.
called it flow because there is a flow between each subject and none of it made sense, buuuuut.
