The Last Comfort

1

I want to hear the child within speak again

The long lost language of flowers and stars

The future that is the ancient past

The whisper that is the tranquil now

 

I do not seek material things, but lift

Lift the veil of the whisper of the wind

Beneath the silence that all things return

Time is a silver slice of breeze in Spring

 

The world doesn’t require us to be anything

But how the cosmos moves us from within

I want to know the verses of tomorrow

Whose pale light will linger like a muted trombone

 

Into the night’s treachery of existence

Where the choices are made that guide our ever-afters

There are no subtle songs of the forest life

Only the make-believe of men and his bots

 

There are no solutions left to the problems we’ll create

Because we are the great trouble-makers in the galaxy

I want to hear the soul’s trembling voice who rarely speaks

That glimmer of the unknown blessedness kept deep within

 

That does not flight or suffer from these mortal wounds

Or have a need for answers in history’s definate touch

That was not so all-defining after all, just another story

Lost to the light of a billion suns.

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