Afraid of this silence?
Does it deafen you?
Echoing off of everything, is
it staggering here at the
Center of everything?
It's enough to drive one mad,
yes,
how did the pioneers
ever do it?
All consuming soliloquy of nature
peering into our souls...
it will crush us.
And we will not survive
because we will not hear it coming.
We will have little white life taps
distracting us from our destinies.
The conquest of the Pod will have
succored our need and desire wholly.
Witnessing pure majesty,
the awesomeness of raw creation, truly awe-some, some awe, awful even, full of effing awe, full till we pop, like kernels in the blaze,
no more.
Who needs it?
We can watch U2 in our hands.
God bless Bono: he brings people hope in neat little black and white boxes.
He uses the millions and millions of dollars he receives in royalties to support diversity.
He is the death of silence.
We're all listening, but no one can really hear anything.
The world is laughing at us and crying
but to us, it's just the static
b | e | t | w | e | e | n s | o | n | g | s . . . . . . . . . . .
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