If I could give a voice to anything, would it be the stones of the earth,
with such stories to tell, having seen all on our planet,
yet still young in the universe?
Would I give voice to the stars,
who probably haven't given us a second glance?
Perhaps I'd give voice to the innerworkings of my mind.
Would it overstep itself, and become lost and scared?
The words spoken would be tangled, half ideas, in a language not of earth.
The voice of my mind would offend, and be hurt.
Would I give voice to the wind, who travels to distant lands,
motivates the sea to dance, and speaks in whispers the gossip of the trees?
Would the wind dapple in speaking to us, but never form a full thought,
whisked away by curiosity and freedom?
Perhaps I'd give a voice to something small, a butterfly.
But a butterfly is too enthralled with its short life
to mess around with such silly language,
Perhaps a spider,
who waits on her web.
She contemplates the world,
in her short life is wise and understands its workings.
But perhaps she would beg to rid the world of hummingbirds,
and I'm not sure I could listen to her.
