Drown

Primordial music runs through my mind.

My eyes are closed

And the fresh sound bubbles and gurgles

In my round ears.

Throughout my system

Are vaporous currents,

Streams of wet wind holding primordial music.

It rains, falling in beady rhythms of syncopation,

Pitter patter on cracked cement.

This had to have been the first sound

Present within the womb,

The first sound lone organisms

Learned to love;

The trickling, dripping, streaming and running,

Spreading wet hands over the world.

We found myths in the mist

And abandoned ports in the fog.

Watch it drown out the sounds of death

Reborn in its soaking embrace.