Poetry is what is missing
When you wake in the morning
And don’t listen for the silence
That will always be with you.
But for that unheard song,
There would be no call
Of bird, no sigh,
No laughter, no word
Beyond the word
To call you home.
When your love speaks,
Listen for that silent singalong,
For the truth that cries out
For life and to live
Beyond life itself.
Do you know that voice?
There are children playing
In the rain. There’s one
Who stops and listens, his heart
Beating wildly with your own.