The shouting,

The target practice,

The loud cries and calls of pain,

The noise, the noise, the noise,

It’s everywhere,

Holding your hand, stroking your ear, keeping your eye,

It won’t be gone, you’ll leave first,

And you’ll always wonder:

Who are we?

It grips your gut, so you eat,

It tightens your head, so you run, you fill your eyes with

Everything,

The noise, the noise, the noise,

All around you, immovable,

Unknown.

Till small, fierce hope grabs you,

From bleak state to meaning,

Doomed land to prosperous field,

Soil finally tilled,

Lost to found,

Love sings, love sings, love sings,

Plants your feet, provides the way,

Shapes the pain, creates you,

Noise fades, dissolves, opens up,

Music, sweet music.

You become the song, 

You start to sing with what little voice you have,

It’s rough, dirty, unused,

But it’s there, perfect and real,

Carrying all that you are,

All that you will become,

All that you’ve been.

Small, seemingly insignificant noise turned music,

Lights the way.