The Final Word
Two hundred faces in a lonely searching crowd.
Four hundred weary eyes weeping, failing to see.
Stark is the Solitude in numbers; deaf unto its mighty roar.
Souls of bitter disillusionment searching empty hearts; pleading evermore.
Voices rise and fall; lips move; tongues twist of incessant prattle.
Yet nothing is ever said, for nothing is heard…
For in the silence, the reaching silence comes the final word.
J. Allen Wilson © 11-2007
Peace,
Bill :-)
love the near hysteria effect.
mmm
ness
Peace,
Dan
God bless you. Kathy
Just beautiful!
R~
the final word...
Susan