Love Poem: Outro

Outro

Outro

It’s only noise when 
evolving’s not desired.
Static sounds akin
to burning uninspired.
As resentment steams
no one dreams
of movements that might have been.

Look again, the audio’s adjustable!
Loudness muffled and hushed…
Fixed? Unsafe? Combustible.
“This tune will not be rushed!”
Operating the soundboard
the inputs slide and fade
until something new's discoverable.

Though wanting to suspend
settling the score
a movement’s been penned
(like many before). 
The creative endeavor
that seemed would last forever
is simply at its end.