Sight of Sound

Weekly page return

It’s good for your health

Machine operator

Send signal to self

Soaring black bruise

Came out of nothing

Everybody will lose

At least we had something

Death comes through the moon

Light cushions my fall

In mind and body

Never stood so tall

Flower stem green and bud

Never blooming again

World all out of love

Hope it creeps back in

You’re far and away

Can’t hear what you say

Hair thin and white

Sight of sound, speed of light