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The smallest sound

Out of the corner of my ear
I catch
The smallest of sounds.
            A barely-there, minute tremor.
It found it’s way
           (God knows how)
Through the
cacophonic medley
accompanying my life.
And yet
 
It’s the small things
That sing,
Really and Truly:
 
It brings careful harmony
To the corner of my ear.
 
This
no-more-than-a-hairs-breadth whisper
Cools my mind.
Carresses the discord,
Turns coal into gold.
 
And though the source will never be found
I find comfort in this smallest of sounds.

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