Maybe we are the incessant voices crying out for change
Individuals who voice their thoughts
Who give their ideas a color
Adding to the collage of passions that piece together this dying world
Maybe we have a thought which we hold on to no matter what
This passion guiding us to the future we do not fully understand
But know is right,
An idea which shapes our minds and souls
Maybe we are the weak and weary
Whose voices will be carried on the faintest of rhythms
But to those who hear will snuggle under the warm idea we share with the world
And under this quilt of patchwork interests we find solitude in one another
Maybe we want to have an impact on the future
Where perspective will no longer buffer our progress
But accumulate into an unstoppable flood
Where one idea will be carried on the shoulders of his son
Or cradled so lightly in the arms of her daughter
Maybe we wish to see a world where you can be who you are
And be a glowing beacon to your kin
Where your memory will shine for generations to come
Without being forgotten or lost in the eternities of time
Maybe we wish to be heard, rather than standing back
Beneath the arrogance of man
Who clamor upon one another to be listened to
Trampled like newborns to their mother
Leaving behind the ones who are not as strong
Maybe we want something more
Yet not know what that may be
And so we wait here
As this cruel world decrees
Waiting for our turn to be heard