Voices Cannot Be Erased

Even voices that don’t exist deserve to be attuned to. Voices that make these walls buckle. But have no essence. Faceless sounds. And at first I feel stricken. Then renewed. Disembodied voices swirl in ribbons of coherence. But nothing but mumbling is streaming from me. Just because something is a secret. Does not make it wisdom. The voices seem to vanish. But they have not escaped. Even in the silence. They are simply playing with new ideas, new plots. To one day speak again. Sometimes silent. But never erased.