Tag Archives: voice


Listen to the voice
It tells you many things that
Are, were, and will be

By Herself

She is awoken by voices,
She is alone.
In a strange place
She calls home.
Echoing off the walls,
In the midst of silence found,
They who have no name,
Each of their words resound.
She hates the silence,
It’s when they are so loud.
Whatever noise she can make
To ward off absent sound.
There is a voice she fears above most,
The one who, from the silence, boasts.
She hates his persistence.
She is insistent that he leave.
She fails and fails and fails again.
Any other voice from the din!
The many shout at her,
She does not give in.
But the one quietly calls,
From behind a door that’s cracked open
When the others leave.
He calls to her, her fears.
Things forgotten from across the years,
And then she remembers why
They were pushed aside.
Then in her heart
She deeply wishes the voices to depart.
And she hears
So softly in her ear,
Him whisper:
“You will believe us absent, asleep,
You will rejoice in your soul deep.
You will forget what I tell you now
And you will remember each time we return our sound
You, in your fear, may not belong,
And we will never truly be gone.”

She closed her eyes,
And awoke alone; or so she was told.
She rose to the window,
And thought the sun too bright to be this cold.

The Tree of Knowledge

Into the night that may swallow whole
What fear we have and render silent the voices that may protest.
On deaf ears our crys fall,
An uncaring void, unwelcoming, and unable to
See how we fall, motionless,
Into the apathy of entropy that holds the universe in check.
What pride, what arrogance would grow rampant
Had not the tree of knowledge bestowed the gift of mortality.

Cold End

The coming dawn, I know it to be cold.
From a distance: voices, faces, in mist,
Are illusions lurking, or so I’m told.
In their discourse, they wildly insist
That if they fervently wish to be real,
It is so. Without permission they lease,
Manafest strange feelings for me to feel,
These things that cause my worries to increase.
A cold path waits for me after waking.
The morning sun abhors my taking warmth,
And I find no heat from it worth taking.
They, in the mist, wish for me to go forth.
Nothing before me but my bitter end:
A garden of sorrow, which I must tend.

As Mortal as Reality Falls

It’s where few of us lie, aiming
Beyond the illusion of what we can see,
Far past the barrier
Of what we can’t be.
There our dreams, goals, and wishes,
Not far from our reach.
Across the nothing, a bridge
To what we can’t yet complete.
Across the gap, this void of ignorance,
There is a voice that calls,
“Time is as finite as its observer
And as mortal as reality falls.
Do not be saddened, we all must die,
That’s what makes our time here precious,
An immortals time is nothing,
As an infinite store of gold: worthless.”
It matters not if the illusion is real,
Or the barrier can’t be moved past,
What’s important is we try and fill
Each moment with what then lasts.
Time is as finite as its observer,
And as mortal as reality falls,
Our lives are adolescence to eternity,
Before our names, that voice, does call.



They’re so loud,
And all I hear
Is the sound
So insincere.
Voice in my head
Seldom are lucid.
Just noise, dead.
Not words, fluid.
I cannot sleep,
This loud noise,
I feel like a sheep,
Being led by that voice.
Now all along
I search to hear,
A soothing song,
To calm my fears.
This sound and me,
And my head drum,
Will search and see,

A Question Of The Dark


Waiting for this feeling to leave.
Waiting for those eyes to leave,
there in that hollow dark,
Hoping that her own deceive.
From what she can see,
It isn’t much.
A voice inside dares her to touch,
To reach out, to clutch,
At something possibly not there.
She wonders, Is there really a thing such
As ghosts To steal her soul?
Then voices inside that aren’t
Her own
Say: “Not ghosts,
Just something in your home.”
A strangled scream escapes her lips.
Is this the night she’ll feel deaths kiss?
Now with all the lights turned on,
She sought to secure some bliss,
From the voices,
From the dark.
From these thoughts she can’t depart!
Here she sees nothing with
All lights on, and one would think
This would take her from the brink
But the lights are off again
And she,
Once more believes,
That she sees something.