Conversation with the Wind

Whisper, and then softer still.

Your wordless speech,

I long to hear,

Of whistles.

A tongue of their own

Licking my senses,

Teasing my senses.   

Too long have I

In indecipherable echoes

Stood waiting, wanting, longing to discern

Conversation natural

Pure and raw.

Too long have I heard

Yet not wanting to listen

To a world forging ahead

To a world of dreams

Through a path of nightmares.

Stave back your airy burden

And speak not with the voices you carry

But with your voiceless speech of antiquity,

With your voiceless speech of silence

No ear can deny.

Whisper yet, and softer still.

Still I remain

As an eager ear

Waiting to hear

Your voice.