Whispers

(Written by Russell Bret)

A cold whisper breaks the silence
And death reveals its apathetic existence
A man cries out in vain
Pleading for youth and freedom
When he wasn’t insane
Time shows no sympathy
As it calls to its victims
An ageless expression
Dark and cold as the void of space itself
Pouring its wrath upon our reality

Every moment a mother cries
One is given life, the other child dies
Yet, time and again hope is reborn
As we search for meaning
In the midst of our storm
Still, the questions remain
On the tongue of humanity:
Where is this maker of miracles?
The one who caused this all?
Is she like us? Does he love us?
Can she even hear us call?

No one can know
And dead lips don’t speak
But if you listen very carefully
To the nature of things
That have come and gone
You’ll find the answer you’re searching for
In the whispers of the silence

© 2024 poodlehead® All rights reserved.