I have made more noise than I should have.
I have roared back at the world, raised Cain,
Stamped my foot. That I thought
It was all a celebration of life
Was a trick of the world,
Which I fell for.

Oh, I have been a bull-roarer, full-throated
Claiming the power of life over stones or dust,
And my kind of meat over others'.
But, what a bamboozle!
Life it self is so still, a zero-being force
And is itself all silence.

That the world is a tar-baby
And I the fool who swung (loudly) at it
Entirely escaped me. Despite this error,
I hope to be released into
The natural briar-patch of silent breath.