Member-only story
Noise
It is morning.
The world is awake (did it sleep at all?)
Everything is new even though it looks the same as yesterday’s night.
The noise resumes.
My toil resumes too.
I sit alone hoping this discourse will shine the light to a different path.
“Everything is new,” I say to myself even though it looks the same.
It is still dark, round and about me. It is silent too. But in the vast rooms of my mind the noise is waking. There’s a clamoring from the mouths of a thousand thoughts — some aside others on the divide. They are warring. Shouting and screaming at each other but I’m the only one that can hear them. They are asking all over again what the future of a bleak present holds. The same questions they asked yesterday and the many days before that. Back and forth they saw at the seams in that space between imagination and sanity.
It is crazy in there.
There is no gavel and no arbiter to quiet these ones. I try to jump in and mediate but my voice is not different from theirs, neither can it be heard in the din of this noiseless terror. After a while, I stop. In their midst, I stand confused. They close in on all sides in walls of a persistent but noiseless agony.
