The Music of a Crowded World

For sure it is a crowded world.
Each night the sirens wail.
Urban sprawl from shore to shore.
Harsh sounds and cries prevail.

Its music can be deafening
as it plunders sex and love.
It thuds against the pavement
and traps your mind above.

Yet when you cut that racket,
and scalpel through to bone,
you bare a cavernous vacuum
with a hush as hard as stone.

You listen for a whisper,
perhaps some voice in pain
A vacuum cannot carry sound
so you stitch it up again.

You let the noise surround you.
You fly from shore to shore,
denying that this empty din
is a gluttonous omnivore.

Appeared in The Fifth Dimension