The Voices
I hear them there in mist of my depths
In silence like a whisper next to you
Speaking familiar tone, occasional stranger
Truth, say listen to gut feel
But are they illusion of times passing
Sounding real, wait; depths are not silent
What is edge to which one is push
The bond and spirit broken away to insanity
When is it we listen not to our own
That we follow idle talk our portrait be
Voices say kill while love spare hatred
Revenger of iniquity one's reduced to flesh
I sleep, sometimes waking to the cries echo
Who's there, who is it I am corresponding
Who's there that I am not alone in myself
Perhaps conscience or imagination run wild
Or just another voice of life leading us on the journey
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