Static

My thoughts drone on, never ceasing—
metronomes piled upon each other,
none keeping the same tempo.
Their constant booming denies me
sleep’s gentle pull;
I need silence to hear the world.

I can no longer listen to the sparkle of the stars,
the song of the sun and the moon, of grass and trees,
the hymns sung by the river and stone.
All of it is buried beneath the static in my head.

So I will drift, stuck
between resting and awake,
reaching out,
knowing I’ve already lost
the silence that once let me listen.