What exactly surrounds us?
Music? Talking? Buzzing of cellphones or rarely hearing the bees. Unless you're being attacked by a wasp.
The sounds of waves or trees waving as time goes and the earth moves.
What you say is one thing it's simplified to; a white noise or louder.
All comes down to vibration.
A simple matter. A simple feel to hear. A simple movement.
Yet so little lights shine of obtaining that electricity.
The electricity in our brains that make us go, create, do. Chemicals reacting making your emotions play out.
Feeling the music with your eardrums beating to the plains, valleys, and mountains.
You can feel more if you're seeking for brief moments fondling with or without.
As you lay in your bed hearing the faints or combustions of vibration surrounding you, inside your own body a mechanism that makes a tiny pulses to your ear.
That mechanism, makes you alive when you draw breath down to lungs that are tainted by human wants, or sometimes in their own delusions take form as need.
Deep thoughts of one are being choked out to hush their words.
Those emotions to be emitted from the box in your throat being pulled or flattened.
Martin Luther; the man back in religious days, before the king who made a different movement.
Martin Luther made a difference with 95 thesis. 95 things hes upset about.
A voice that the control wants to mute.
A voice that turn heads to relize the blanket they were covered with.
Washed to people on soap boxes trying to give a shock but the control is steps ahead by giving plugs to the ear to conceal the vibration that can quake the very realm you stand and belive in.
Convinced that it's all a
White.
Noise.
