Up above in the emptiness of space
Is the complete absence of earthly sound,
The very possibility removed.
Voices with no medium of travel
Are sliced away at the lips–caught, held, lost.
Noise recognized as obsolete recedes,
Leaving the globe in vast pristine silence
As it turns and shifts in aching orbit
And harbors billions of minuscule souls,
All deafening. They scramble the surface,
But heavy Earth lingers blue from above
And shows only scratches of man’s great show.
The curving plane rolls through silent vacuum
In a silence made of absolute void.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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