Reality
It seems
Is not a string of songs
One after another; blotting out and drowning
The world

It is a symphony; thrown together by an unwitting orchestra
Each playing their part
Filling the void
With ambiance

The choir a cacophony of voices; overlapping to form a bubbling hum,
Only the occasional overheard scratch at the veneer into the lives
Of others

A chorus of motors; white noise against the silence of the sky
Trucks roar a crescendo above the din, and
The buses hiss, keeping time at every stop

Nature is the only one aware of the music that engulfs it;
Birds sing along with the rest of us,
While the wind in the trees exhales the notes of a pause

At last, the staccato applause of heels on concrete;
Steady, unbroken clapping
Showing unconscious appreciation
For the rhythm of the city

With hearing no longer impaired,
The world offers a unique melody
The only requirement is
To listen

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