The Sound of Nothing
The sound of harps played by virgin hands,
the falling of sparrows from innocence,
the orchestra of a thousand silhouettes,
the rhapsody of dying (and death),
the high-pitched songs of malice and contempt,
the chorus of crickets about to rest,
the breath of a newborn about to see
that living on two feet
is a parody,
the humming of a lotus to a harp-playing lass-
it is the sound of nothing, it is the sound of impasse.
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