This Noise

February 14, 2010
I hear a noise,
A quiet noise,
With a dancer’s precision,
Beauty and poise.

Why is it heard?
Where is it from?
What is this noise
And why has it come?

I think it is nothing,
Just my ears playing tricks.
But why do I hear
These repeating ticks?

Louder and louder
They begin to grow.
What is this noise?
I’m dying to know.

I snap my eyes shut
As I hold in my breath.
Is this the noise
Of approaching death?

I hope it’s not true,
I hope it’s a lie.
The honest truth is that
I don’t want to die.

I’m not ready to leave,
I don’t want to go.
What is this noise?
Will I ever know?

Closer and closer
The noise still grows.
What does it mean?
Nobody knows.

I still hear the noise,
But I feel something new.
Maybe this noise
Really is true.

I feel a chill
Deep in my heart,
This feeling of fear
Is ripping me apart.

Is this the end?
Why can’t I see?
How is this real?
How can this be?

Without a light
Or a helpful guide,
I still do not know
If I have died.

Louder and louder,
The noise all I hear.
I can see nothing more,
I feel nothing but fear.

Am I alive?
Is death finally here?
Then suddenly there’s nothing,
Not even my fear.

Nothing is heard,
Nothing is seen.
Is it all over?
What does this mean?

Then I hear noise,
A different noise,
Without a dancer’s precision
Beauty or poise.

I feel it now,
Deep in my heart.
Why is there no fear
Ripping me apart?

This noise is no tick,
But a thump or a beat.
Is this the noise
Of my final defeat?

No it is not.
This noise is too kind.
Or is this new feeling
A trick of the mind?

I know what this is,
I’ve heard of its part.
This new, different noise
Is the beat of my heart.

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