As I listen to these sounds
Hear your voices too join
Seemed to come together then
Joined to part of the noise
And you become but notes and movements and fluid sound
To be nothing more than an instrument
Whose sounds are shapeless and unrecognizable forms
But exist in deliberate tandems
So be just a spectator to sound
Real real spectator
As with all, eventually, "disentertained" by your orchestra
Too with no enamor to odd presence
Eliminated your faculties in this thin box
Orchestra plays on no attendance
Yet strode out to nearest farthest reach on but a feeling
Forecast to say:
Walk 23 blind paces forward
Walk 23 blind paces back
Open your eyes
Seeing everything in the dark
Say not say
Beautiful your lips shall be turned
Not walked past the company's last ashed-over firewood
And if one passes you
"Salutations."
Walk.
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