The Sound Poem by Kevin Maroney

Something screams in the dawn of night,
something filled to the brim with fright.
Yet if somehow it were to run,
it'd trip and fall like a crass pun.

So devil-like, it comes about,
till like the snake, it slithers out,
and out of sight till the sun turns red,
and all life, death, is nothing but dead.

Without its end, it dies constantly,
no longer dead, but misery.
It spreads till all life comes around,
and nothing is left but the sound.

Everything enters its own abode,
and then sings its last ode.