Voice Within All Things

Huge clouds cover the valley
light disguised behind a veil of gray,
energy dropping ominously, a barometer
of war and poverty, of a once free creature
whose invention will not overcome the truth.
With no answer for Earth’s distress
he picks up a stone on the beach
and listens for its story.
Unable to stop the machine
or the deep rumbling fault lines
he opens his heart to a simpler gift,
the voice within all things.


5 Responses to “Voice Within All Things”

  1. Arun Jain says:

    It didnt matter what he thought
    The sun laughed and the sky cried
    whenever they wanted to

  2. Being trapped under those valley clouds at gound level with the pollution of the mind made world of human nature, can be a rather weighty experience.
    I’ve climbed to the mountain tops in such times and enjoyed the radiance of the ever present sun above the maddening crowd. One must return to that world, however. The challenge is to stay centered in the One, that is above it all.

  3. Sandy Jensen says:

    This poem for me is “he picks up a stone on the beach
    and listens for its story…”
    The rest tends to the didactic, which is not my favorite style; however, that’s just me! Millions of readers love that approach!

  4. Lawrence Hudetz says:

    “To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
    To forgive wrongs darker than Death or Night;
    To defy Power, which seems Omnipotent;
    To love, and bear; to hope, till Hope creates
    From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
    Neither to change nor falter nor repent;
    This, like thy glory, Titan! is to be
    Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
    This is alone Life, Joy, Empire and Victory.”

    -H.P. Shelley
    “Prometheus Unbound”

    These words have stayed with me since my teenage years, when I first heard them as a spoken Prologue to Ralph Vaughn Williams “Synphonia Antartica”

    Seems appropriate to today’s difficulties, hopes seemingly dashed to the rocks to which we first listened for it’s story, and that of it’s origins..

    Now we listen for the story at the Large Hadron Collider in Cern.

  5. Terry Stoupa says:

    I tend to agree with Sandy. The poem for me also is “he picks up a stone on the beach and listens for its story…”

    His HOPE, then, is 1) to HEAR, and/or 2) to REMEMBER.

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