Noise decibels reaching critical levels usually makes
me realise, but too late; a colleague has moved into
line with me, taking down a bookcase screen, filling
space necessary to separate us. I should have been
more vigilant, a sacrifice destined to drive me mad -
This is why the noise kept increasing, desperate for
my ambience of background noise I’d increased the
volume of the André Rieu DVD, all the time my ears
twinkling, yet whenever one of us in the line speaks
up the noise penetrates my music screen - oh why
Did destiny decide to punish me; is it synchronicity
of destiny using my colleague to damn me in being
so happy about the value of everlasting forms and
concepts that wait about to be animated by living
forms and illustrated by what we think of
Inanimate matter - yet has a life all of its own? Was
my rejoicing in this my undoing, attracting attention
of the gods who decided my punishment would be
lack of privacy?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very fine writing, thanks. Please read my poems and comment.