Sound

[a poem about an abstract concept]

Sometimes sprinting, sometimes gliding, sometimes dancing through obstruction.

Starting with rigor then petering out, to become nothing.

Tiptoeing or stomping- traveling in its own way until exhaustion demands it cease.

Making it to it’s destination, or not.

Caressing. Nestling in the ear,

or crashing painfully into the side of the head,

or just stopping somewhere before that…

But in it’s existence, carrying all the importance [and unimportance]

we care to share with one another.