reflections post-caffeine and exercise

my footsteps don’t make a sound here
when the hustle of those hotrods known as family cars
sweeps away my aural attendance of 25th avenue

would my presence be noticed then?
these stars are as fickle as my identity
they blink on and off without care or concern for observers

why would I not duplicate their actions?
am I not a celestial being equal unto their own?
or is humanity a metaphor for something beyond physical?

my silence is only present in sound form, though
I am still here to be seen or felt, or even tasted
what grit I add to this world is just as valuable as what gifts I leave it