It’s a symphony of words that fall upon deaf ears
Many people can hear the voice of the wind
But only a few can understand its language
Broken we are to holy hymns that rain from heaven
And blind we are to the street of gold that were promised
Yet we bathe in the glory of the sun
Forever free
Even though we imprison ourselves with pagan implications
Benevolent, bountiful, and blissful
Are the ideologies that we manifest
Creatively,
Inspiring all that wish to dive within our essences
And to all that wish to listen to the sounds of the wind
Everlasting is the conscious that has been bestowed upon us
And eternally will we strive for life,
So that in the end we may have a sense of death
For even if we exist as nothing
We still remain as something of absence
And to know if we were nothing
Would be concept that only the wind could whisper
~ Tony Paradise’s Poet ~
