Different chimes

I notice my assumptions towards another's lack of noticing that of the same, who am I to expect another to anticipate the same stories of the day as I do?
Is this world not richer for the countless stories told to us through our awareness of life's prose or lack thereof?
One bird calls echo different sentiments to all our hearts and not even the individuals' heart struck like a bell by birdsong chimes the same tune from one sun to the next.
On this sun a man in mourning chimes tunes of compassion in harmony with birdsong, comfort, empathy.. the same song sung on the same sun had the sleepless sombre and chiming slithers in their sheets, worn like gullies eroded by storms throughout centuries..

Author's Note

Was pure stream of conciousness, unsure on the merit of it as standalone-writing but here we are.