Do you know the sensation
where you can pick out one sound
through the discord of a busy street?
I think that’s love.
One perfect harmony surrounded
by white noise.
A magnetic pull so strong
it disrupts your poles
and realigns your being
to reassign your north star.
And most days
I’m nothing but dazzled by its bellow;
The one cry in the universe
meant for me.
And on others I can’t help but fret
that I may lose it amongst the symphony
of sounds that are not.
But if roads are meant for journeys
and not destinations
I suppose I won’t lay down right here
and allow myself to be plowed
by a chorus of clamor not intended for me.