The Bastions Sang Comments

Your poem begins with sounds most people consider noise, and that is a reductive term for what they discount. It's simply noise pollution to them., and they will lean back in their chairs hoping some passing tenor will sing a sweet. aria for them. But you persist in listening in the moment, having faith in the moment others dismiss as meaningless. Various noises sound forth, you are patient, and then THE SACRED WIND ARISES AND BRINGS TO YOU WHISPERS SWEETER THAN ANY TENOR VOICE.