the crickets are chirping somewhere
underneath this blanket of perpetual
sound i've created to insulate myself
from understanding the real world at
night time;

a voice calls my name and
i am slow to the response
as each moment right now
is covered in molasses and
crawling at a snails pace;

what he says is of no concern
to me. i've pretty much gotten
to the point where words
cease to mean anything;
and the echoes even less.

perhaps a dream of poems
long forgotten can revive
the meaning and vivacity
of something that once
meant so much
that now crumbles as a statue
left in ruins as a testament to
this ancient city of its
once bright future;
however sleep
will not come easy and
a dream like that would
never grace itself upon my
mind;

so as the silence champions the
sound, right now the crickets chirp
means more to me
than anything you could ever say.

09/15/2005

Posted on 09/15/2005
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams