It gets hard to hear over the noise of our times.
Everyone screams their bedridden complaints over
again like we've never heard. We're blind not deaf.
The Voice whispers at 3am when I can't stop thinking
long enough to sleep. It sounds like mom and god and
lovers lost long ago and old men speaking of old wars
and young pups who want to taste blood of new battles.
I lament and repent and resent and relive my life told
in dead night quiet as I listen with laughs and tears to
The Voice That is Great Within Us.