With a loud enough bang of dynamite
we could wash the world of belief
and watch it slide from existence
like a raindrop from a leaf
to fall and combust upon bedrock
in a crashing wave of relief.

If we have enough traces of Thermite
we can always have a little more,
and we can line the globe with firecrackers
from mountaintops to ocean floors.
Hope that the boom brings a shudder to windows
and a drastic inhale to doors
and let the recoil reiterate itself
from this world’s surface, unto its core. 
No one will ever ask
what this was all done for.
No one likes to notice
when anyone else spills a little war.

With enough drums of napalm
we can bang the world a new beat,
a pulse to repulse and reduce
the symmetric souls to meat.

With a bright enough shade of bonfire,
we can illuminate what the blind seek.
If the explosions are all loud enough,
it can permit the mute to speak.
The first thing said
will be “Here’s what you’ve done wrong,”
told by the businessman to the thief.

With a loud enough bang of dynamite
we can rid the whole world of sound
and let every one of the earth’s children
turn back into the ground.
May we both synch as deeply as we can
into a procedure that goes around
and around and around.