Only the fridge and a computer fan

Whisper their condolences

To the solitude sought.

My mind, plenty loud like

Headphones clapped on

My ears, cymbals

On symbols of reception,

The white noise of

My own pseudo conclusions.

Psalm 51 like area 51

Draw my curiosity

To the mystery of grace

Folded into mercy

As the pairing of woofer

And tweeter balance

Morning upon mourning

Of music, while the songs

In the night fade.