A never ending journey, to get lost we fret,
Some sounds that we hear, save life from death.
They alter in pitch, they accrue over time,
Their only purpose, to make the journey sublime.
As each one goes through our unconscious mind,
An unknown part of us, they tend to unwind.
A beautiful sound, an archer's touch,
It pierces the heart, but maybe not much.
A fleeting thought, so fast it came,
It tingles your senses, they all feel the same.
You think you have reached the end of the loop,
You start to filter, unknowingly you group.
Out of the blue a whisper passes by,
You tend to ignore it, you seem to know why.
But as time moves on, you hear it again,
You start to enjoy it, you no longer feign.
Sometimes its candid, which pricks like a pin,
It created itself from somewhere deep within.
The silent whisper in a world of the blind,
It starts to resonate, is it your kind.
You hear more such whispers as you go along,
Use your imagination, it adds up to a song.
As the whispers grow slowly, you must let it know,
Of its aesthetic rhythm, a well composed score.
But when distances threaten, will the whispers cope,
No promises to keep, no words, just hope.
Will the whispers start fading, will it whisper no more,
A song for your heart, it resonates for sure.
------ Alistair D'souza 2nd June 2006