Silence is all around.
Constricting our last breaths.
Silence in our hearts, minds, and souls.
We hear nothing,
And feel nothing.
Nothing except this wretched silence.
Yet from deep within there is a tiny voice,
It tries to shout through a thick cloud of ignorance,
But all that is heard is a distant whisper.
The voice knows what to do,
It knows where happiness lies,
And though the voice is certain nothing will be heard,
It continues to shout; to share itís knowledge to all.
If only someone would listen,
If only someone would care,
And attempt to understand the knowledge of the voice.
But the only thing that anyone cares for is their own rapaciousness.
So on and on we go with our own self-absorbed lives,
Not caring about anything but ourselves.
If only we knew what that meek voice from within knows.
Then maybe the silence of human stupidity would finally be broken.