The Voice

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