Deep beneath the thunderous
sound,
Consuming every
minute, of every day,
There’s something that
all but drowns,
As we go our many separate
ways.
Our thoughts at the
speed of light,
Are shouted at
hundreds and thousands.
Opinions and values
take flight,
Invading millions of
houses.
But beneath all this
shouting and clawing,
Lies a quiet voice
with a simple message.
Its beauty, an artist’s
prized drawing,
Belying a palpable
presage.
Every day as the
noise level rises,
The voice doesn’t waver
or soften.
Unceasing throughout
all our guises,
Though few will hear
it often.
As our hourglass slowly
tips,
And time is almost
finished,
Words still spill
from those lips,
The voice remains
undiminished.
The cacophony’s slowly
silenced,
Forcing us, to stop and listen.
Whether you’re of God
or Science,
The shimmering words, still glisten.
If lady fortune
smiles upon you,
And you hold a
private conversation,
With one who saw
right through,
The sensory
constipation,
Be happy for that
brief respite,
That quiet room that
shuns all sound.
Let both your voices
fill the night,
Block the noise that’s
all around.
That voice is who we
really are,
And all who care,
will stop and listen.
Whether heard near or
from afar,
The voice maintains
its lonely mission.
“I want to love” it
says, beneath the fray,
Despite all we’ve
said that day.
“And be loved” follows,
with certainty,
Its echo rings eternally.
Jarid Hewlett
