there is a box full of noise
it is small enough
to hold in my hand
sometimes it feels
like the box and its noise
is all that matters
I go to it
when I am happy
when I am sad
when I want to be happy
when I want to be sad
when I am
lonely
angry
confused
scared
the box and it’s noise
can answer many questions
all the questions maybe
it is even starting
to think for itself
the box tells of the world
of the tragedies mostly
it allows us to talk to others
to see ourselves
our loved ones
our air brushed idols
in a shining light
right in front of our eyes
there’s so much noise
in the box
every kind of noise
all you could ever want
or imagine
is right here
always
a few finger taps away
it’s easy to forget
that there is anything else
today though the box
and its noise
aren’t helping
and so I leave it behind for awhile
and I step outside
and wow how loud
the birdsong rings
how bright the sky
how warm the spring sun
how I didn’t realize
the noise
had nearly covered
the whole world
and all it took
was setting down the box
to remember