The Sounds

The Sounds, the chasing of the wind The chiming of birds, the brushing of trees The sounds  The call of thunder, the silence of wonder  The beat of a heart that ponders  The sounds  The flutter of wings, the shuffle of indecision  The clang of precision  The sounds  The lightness of voice, the command of drums  The harmony of strings  The sounds  The running of water, the sliding of butter  The Grinding of brains  The sounds  The cacophony of humans, the ascension of congregation  The praise of choir  And like a helpless bird I'm trapped in the middle  Listening from all sides and getting nothing but riddles Being forced to dance like a puppet on strings to the sound of pointless fiddles  I'm confused so I try to listen  searching and hoping for that one thing So I listen to the roar of lions, to the crash of waves  To the stillness in graves  I listen and listen harder still  And when that wasn't enough I searched high and low  Sent letters on arrows with my bow  To the splutter of guns, to the greeting of Suns  To the blast of bombs, to the marching of soldiers  To the honk of cars. To the tick tick of clocks  To the breaking of hearts, to the thundering of horses  To the speed of light and came up with nothing  A null of nothing a lot of nothings  Giving up I couldn't take it anymore, hands on my head screaming  My frustration at a crescendo cause I had been from doe to doe And the re mi only filled my cup cause I was to fa from my heart  So I could only hymn the la's and make ti's in my head  All in an effort to get better  But then I realized I had never searched for a whisper  The silent, insignificance of a whisper  The gentle lure of a whisper The power of a whisper  So I searched for a whisper in all the wrong places  In all the places I thought were the right places  And still found nothing again  Broken, tired, humbled I find my knees embracing the cold floor  Tears running down my cheeks hotter they felt than sulphur  My life depends on this I cry to a deity I always denied  But hoping with every fibre of my being that he listens  Miserable, pathetic wretched I cry and he just doesn't reply  Slowly tho I get quiet and as the sweet bitter silence builds  I hear a whisper....... I hear the whisper  #lostwords deh-lay