You judge me on my silence.
delight behind my eyes
Were telepathy happily practiced art
meeting minds would
require no material
projectiles across divisive planes.
In this domain, such art is obscured
by angry barriers, obsessive defenses,
persistent jarring noise.
Wondrous mythologies of
hard won lessons,
intricately traced interpretations,
pulse quickening musical fetes,
exude through sentient silent forest.
Melody distanced from voice
as trees fall, leaves amass,
unheeded earth abides.
Come, discover arcane treasure,
magic of my forest’s harvest!
Breathe radiant air of revealed beauty.
Respond to call of tribal chants
no longer silent,
embraced in resonance.