It is often asked rhetorically, "When a tree falls in the woods

with no one there to hear it,

does it truly make a sound?"

What is sound? Just a row of vibrations running through the air

crashing into eachother and occasionally an eardrum,

resonating through the bark of the tree,

through the earth to its core

So yes, the tree has made a sound.

When I talk to myself, do I make a sound?

No one is around to hear it and no one will ever ask.

No one even stops their tennis match of words and phrases,

one hitting the conversational hot potato to the other and never to me.

I speak so slowly, quietly, awkwardly

that it is almost acceptable for someone to interr-

of course I make a sound!

The question is "If a tree falls in the woods, and calls out in desperation,

will you feel it in your heart? Will you care?"

In my experience, not many care, which is why I choose to write.

I write to break the silence, to make the metaphorical sound,

the tug in someone's heart as they read my love letters,

the hopeful struggle before I hit the ground.

I write a string of scribbles known as letters to lure people into the woods

and thus they will be there to hear the sound

of my fall.

My poems show the fire within the innocent lady,

the waterfalls on the other side of the stirdy, strong mountain.

Life grants you no time to think, you know?

You are forced to come up with witticisms and remarks on the ever-moving dot.

You must adapt and morph into the likes and dislikes

of all whom you encounter.

Second by second.

In writing though, no one can see you fumble,

no one is made to wait

for you to formulate

 your words, your story, your state

of mind. Your mind is free to take its precious time

you will not fall in the woods, but stand tall

and let the sunlight shine through your leaves

as people walk by with papers and rainbows in their hands.

You will be on their mind though you are not present,

this is the utmost honor, I believe.

I write to make an abstract sound,

that of the voice that was once silenced and can now speak volumes.

I am a tree who refuses to fall,

but dance in the wind as it sings.