white noise

i saw no beauty today    
sometimes the machinations of a day    
even if frenetic    
carry time from the well of morning    
till the sun telegraphs the day's close soon to come  
without the fanfare of a why  
     
a look to words    
or sound    
or chips with cheese    
a mindless show    
to drizzle minutes into a pile of hours    
are a maze to find a fetal pose    
a hope of a moment's calm    
perhaps ahead    
after machetes tear down the brush of boredom    
     
it’s not that quiet is not a reservoir    
but silence must be invited    
cultivated    
or it’s simply time’s container    
but that, is a different kind of day    
one that has the arc of a plan    
etched upon the energy of will    
 
today though    
it’s like waiting for a rainbow    
to appear within my stationary view    
     
at least the hum of tomorrow    
is slowly fading   
as "nothing" eats its way    
through my gluttonish, numb,    
blind path