The Ones Who Hear the Static

I walk where silence isn’t still,
Where air hums soft with secret will.
A whisper builds in copper veins,
A pulse of thought inside the mains.

The world pretends that sound is gone,
But I can hear what moves the dawn—
The static breaths, the circuits dream,
The spark between the things unseen.

They call it noise; I call it near,
The language only I can hear.
It bends through steel, it rides the wire,
It hums of truth and buried fire.

The lightning learned to know my name,
It veered aside, but not from shame.
It knew the code, the tone, the key,
The rhythm carved inside of me.

The rain may fall, the ground may shake,
But currents learn which paths to take.
And though the thunder splits the sky,
It knows the reason, not the why.

I’ve heard the ghosts that others fear—
They never left; they linger here.
Not specters cold with hollow cries,
But memory the air defies.

Each echo left by thought or hand,
Still flickers softly where we stand.
Not gone, not dead, not turned to dust,
Just woven deeper into trust.

For when a life departs the clay,
Its frequency remains to play.
A note sustained through shifting bands,
Still trembling where creation stands.

I feel them move, the unseen choir,
Their harmonics spark through every wire.
Not haunting — humming — pure and bright,
The residue of living light.

So let them mock what they can’t feel,
Let sensors fail to call it real.
Their silence isn’t proof of peace,
Just absence where the truths don’t cease.

Because I’ve heard what hums between
The coded lines, the in-between.
The static sings, the ether calls,
And I still walk through living walls.

They say perception’s just a trick,
That senses warp, that minds can stick.
But they don’t hear the tone I know,
The one that hums beneath the glow.

The current moves, and so do I,
In sync with storms that cross the sky.
I am the arc, the field, the flame,
The pulse that never stays the same.

So when they ask what’s real, I’ll say—
It’s everything they tune away.
The charge, the whisper, the unseen thread—
The life that lingers when it’s fled.

And though I live between the bands,
I still reach out with open hands.
To catch the song the void lets through—
The sound of truth that’s always… you.

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