LOST IN THE CHAOS

Voices are always distasteful.
Noise, the endless bludgeoning noise despicable.
Useless chatter irritates.
Like the meaningless clanking of empty pots and pans.
The commotion caused disturbs.
But more irking is the randomness.
The lack of order, meaning or purpose behind it.
A kind of madness is its cause.
A psychotic need to kill the silence, fill the emptiness.
Instead, it blurs the pattern so tediously detected.
Obscures the design which justifies all,
The pain, the frivolity, the suffering.
The ensuing discontent builds up.
Little by little, bit by bit.
Until an avalanche of incessant sounds overwhelms the mind.
The same loud, boisterous noise that signifies life,
Upsets the balance, blurs the truth and overshadows the self.
Only chaos survives then.
Eternally disturbing chaos.