Static

Yesterday was not a good day for me. For some strange reason, my mind was filled with what I can only describe as an intense, day-long burst of static that occupied my thoughts and left me unable to focus except with extreme effort. It was only late in the evening that it left me, after an intense hour of prayer following a half-hour of increasing agitation and anxiety due to the tenacity of the mental static.

After the static had passed, this poem started forming in my mind, echoing the contradictory and somewhat paradoxical nature of static, and reflecting the somewhat lack of point and structure thereof.

Static

The beauty and the ugliness of static
Lie both in its uniform variability:
That monotonous polytonicity of silent sound,
The ever-changing constants of one-note chords,
That noiselessly echo down electric corridors.
It invisibly shouts over words and thoughts,
Deafening minds with its swirling lines
Of substantial nothingness.
Fuzzy sharpness conquers all,
Imaginatively drowning reality
And replacing fact with fiction.
It buzzes in the ears and eyes
And drives one madly sane,
Clearing from the slate both
Ill and good, leaving naught behind,
Quieting the mind with racing stillness.
Exhilarating despair sets in,
As the mind haltingly hastes
Through distracted focus to uncertain ends.

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