The sound of iron hands
Clanging against the ground
Muffled clarity
In echoes of crowded streets
Left behind in the silence of noise
We question the message
In fragments of tin matter
Left swimming on the sidewalks
In the November rain
Noise is clarity and clarity noise
Only now is it clear
I have known of it all along

My department is in prose fiction, but I like and write some free verse. However, the poem itself is rather dry of... clear meaning. The silence of noise? Muffled clarity? Known of "it"... what is "it"? The message?. to put it simply, I might just be tired.