what's this "poem" about?

From the void comes a cry,
not wild or a thing of nature
but muffled as the mangled soul, polluted.
Its distorted waves hit the pure and the serene, disturbing.
But in the sterile blankness
of the mind that has
itself rejected, as the coward it is, the harmony--
the nobility in man with plain clothes
or the untouched beauty outstanding in the blemished face.
In this what remains of the marvel--
the neurons and the dopamine and the need for a consort--
the cry from the void is hailed, unfathomed.

silent, peaceful ecstasy

It was a blissful summer eve and the house was spic and span clean. The scent of potpourri, unobtrusive and soft, was a comfort to all the senses. Three girls embodied the spirit of this summer: they grew unchecked like the dandelions that grew even in the cracks of the sidewalk, yet their bloom was still delicate like the carefully managed roses. They stood in the kitchen, their hair pinned and tied. Their arms moved over the rolling pin, the cutting board, and the stove. Sometimes soft, sometimes high pitched, mirthful conversation passed among them. The vision of the three was ordinary for most eyes, except to the eyes who loved them. These could consider all the bliss of the ordinary. They could stand at the kitchen door and behold the vision of long black hair tied up, and the laughter of the girls, the movement of their elbows as they worked, and know that this was a moment to remember. They could say nothing but enjoy a silent, peaceful ecstasy.