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Noise
  crickets chirp
  cicadas buzz
  loud, incessant but impossible to
  pinpoint any direct sound
  somehow, it fades
  into the background
  until almost forgotten
  this cacophony of pure noise
  becomes nothing more than
  static
  when you’re trying to listen to that song
  intently
  but somehow never hearing the very
  noise doing the blocking
  stop to listen
  really listen
  to the (annoyance),
  the fading backdrop of life,
that shows the intricate melodies and the
  feeling of more contained
  like the pain of loss
  unfocused, passed, faced
  becoming a delicate background, a careful knowledge, an emptiness
  a buzzing that never really leaves or fades,
  only gets easier to ignore
  in time
  with time, colored by other
  experiences.
  people move on,
  joy comes again,
  and life
  chaotic, messy
  loud
  drowns out the never ending static
  of sadness
  but in quiet moments,
  when the world slows in its turning
  and everything seems to pause
  it’s hard to ignore
  you stop and really
  listen
  and maybe you don’t want to drown it out
  anymore
  and you hear
  the cicadas, and
  the pop music skips
  in and out and fades
  to pure, full
  static. and
  the pain comes
  how can a hole,
  so gaping wide and empty,
  devoid of nothing,
  anything,
  still feel so much
  and be so much, so
  living and tangible and raw around the edges and
  Loud
  and it hits you
  this thing that you have been living with
  living with
  suddenly gasping and screaming,
  doubled over, the wind knocked out, but
  everything looks
  the same
  and finally, the realization
  that the static
  this pain
  is now part of the music, part of the
  tapestry of life,
  and every experience is
  Colored by it
  and so
  in those quiet moments, when
  no one is watching or
  listening
  you let yourself
  Hear
  the cicadas, and the loss,
  the hole that somehow has so many layers
  and a melody all by itself
  ending with a dissonant chord
  a little off beat
  a broken edge that you must work
  to fit into yourself
  because without the static, there can’t be music
  but when the crickets and cicadas
  finally stop
  and the (static) music has all been long silenced
  it will never be
  Quiet
  not with the feeling that you
  can never forget
  though you want to
  sometimes
  when it rips through
  (leaving destruction in its wake)
  but maybe
  that’s okay

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