To The Euphonic Memory Of The Death I Know Poem by Nathaniel A.Wallace

Is there no noise in space? too bad;
I've always wanted to hear, with visible proportion
The sound of a nation, changing its perspective;
The solar wind, basking in my hair;
The cosmic reshuffling
Of a revolving planet;
Or dying star; for a moment -
Turning away from an orbit
Of tight, rocky girdles -
To feel the friction on an asteroid, hurtling through and bending
Space, tugged apart by dark energies
And simultaneous, gravitas duties to circumnavigate
Jupiter and the Sun; or be
There at the forming of a star!
(Even a neutron has life)
Or at the Earth's inception when this rotating mass
Isolated conscripts from a seemingly
Ceaseless source, and sucked its neighbours dry
To be a part of our being on our own; now,
Don't ask me how the moon falls so perfectly,
Because I don't know;

Just as the revolving glory of the milky way
Forms the periphery of one but many
Archimedean, concentric circles,
Encompassing such microcosms in universal axiom,
On the surface
Pertinent beauty is all that remains
As though, truthfully, it were a bubble,
When all else is blown away; yes,
I wish (once more) to hear: that solidifying tone -
A solid, low-B flat
Emanating from the black hole in my trombone, and
Radiating through the room;
Or await to hear the silent sound of death
That, though I cannot feel,
Diffuses a little morose;
And that is always, in this universe,
More like a mocking remiss in the cacophonic explosion
With no conclusion, anyways...