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Voices


I hear voices in the breeze once again

and a dormant power stirs deep inside.

I am witness to miracles I cannot defend,

beholden to no law you would choose to abide.

I see armies of the night marching towards the dawn

and a spirit pass over these lands that cannot rest.

I hear voices of things from a place beyond

the trials of days spent bewildered and depressed.


I am confronted by images I cannot forgive

without some music to make my interests clear.

I strive to ease the many pains with which you live;

half-besotted and paralyzed with crippling fears.

This is my article of contrition and I wish to raise

the concerns of my soul to a more meaningful place.

I hear voices in the breeze rhapsodizing in solemn praise

of the many nights endured and all that remains.


I chronicle my glimpses into the future, those enchanted flashes,

and mark their passing in the firmament of life.

I have suffered and survived myself and the inevitable clashes

fought under terms that were never mine.

I hear voices in the breeze and the skies rupture with light

that heals the land brilliantly and with skill.

I long to be there, I am guided by the potential sight

of yet another monument hidden behind distant hills.

Hi J ~

Beautiful poem!
I'm reminded of the Moody Blues' "Voices in the Sky" and Demis Roussos' "My Friend the Wind".

~ Makera