Noise

Noise. Most of it is noise.
Competitive. Cumalative. Noise.
Not important. Not to you.
Conversations. Other people’s music.
Rants and promises worth little.
changing little. But noisy enough
to be distracting from the center,
the place peace is found. theives
of love and peoace we were made for
in exchange for what?

The turth is, the what does not matter
if it is not yours. No matter how glittery or loud
it does not matter, until it has crowded out
the best of you, or not, depending
on your abliity to tune out the noise
and hear the music that is yours
and yours alone.

About this poem

Written in a very noisy coffeeshop.

Tom