On the Threshold of Silence

 
 
 
Absorbed by rabble noise my tired voice trails unheard.
How can it matter what I say?
A fool, I record hard travel truth in written word
to scatter as if for use someday.
 
Realize that my eyes see uncommon visions.
My mind seeks to find unlikely decisions.
My lips may seem gripped, but that’s not done on purpose.
What I know doesn’t show on my nondescript surface.
 
How can I explain,
entice suffice to hear,
what isn’t always clear?
Notes of refrain
jumbled with pain;
I must be insane.
Lyrics
play with my inner ear,
keeping me guessing.
Burden or blessing?
Of course you don’t care.
Just turbid notes on passing air.
 
Weaving through aether,
permeating atmosphere,
essence I ache to share
already everywhere.
You never heard it from me.
.
.
.
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