Wavelengths

Nails on a chalkboard,

Noise.

Birds chirping,

Sound.

Contemplating minds,

Music.

This poem was written in an English class, during a discussion of Tony Hoagland.  I've been think a lot lately about thinking, and this poem embodies how I really feel about thinking, Music to my ears. When ever I think, there is no one to tell me that I'm wrong, however sometimes this leads to misguided thoughts and opinions. Occasionally I'll share some thoughts, but generally I keep them to myself to savor them and turn them into poems and other things.

The End

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