Pluck!

From there!
The sound emerges.
A pinpoint, no, a cave,
A wave that echoes as it surges
Through the echoes
Of my imagination
What configuration will it show?
When into my ear it flows . . .

WAIT!
The throes of death!
I, in horror, fascinated
Cold mounds of sweat
That channel my curious anxiety,

For the sound does not live past today,
Not even this moment may contain it,
It is eternal, but manifest only momentarily,
In memory it may emerge again
But for now, it rests.

Objective achieved.