But a mere whisper amongst
a universe of unspoken words.
A thought never voiced, yet heard.

Breathing shells, encasing hopes
and dreams.
Hearts that are easily shattered by the
silent screams.

Who are we?
A tear swallowed in a river of pain.
A smile given with nothing to gain.
Gentle touches that shout of love.
The ability to find peace in the
tender coo of a dove.

Who are we?
But the rustle of a soft breeze, that creates
ballets through oak leaves, or just the
imagination that allows us to be.


Kathleen M. Kohl/Levinski