An infant bursting into white light wails.
Shattering, the sound wave washes outward and is lost
in the general background hum.
A tired mother clings to the echo.
In space, there is no sound.
The universe is silent.
Within a tiny margin of error, everything is space,
everything is silent.
Noise is life, a very small thing indeed,
and listening is chasing the solar wind:
but hear that first cry, a birth, a life sending out ripples
to die on the surface of an ocean-clad planet.