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MANY VOICES
IN THE MEADOW STANDS A COLUMN
OF PRISTINE MARBLE WHITE
AND MANY TIMES
IT FINDS ITSELF
AMONG VERBAL STRIFE.
ABOUT THIS COLUMN,
ARE VOICES,
MANY VOICES,
LIKE RAGING WINDS.
THEY BLOW AIMLESSLY,
SOMETIMES BLAMELESSLY,
AROUND AND THROUGH.
SOME WOULD RATHER
IT BE A FOOT PATH
SUNKEN FLAT INTO THE GROUND,
NOT OUT OF MEANNESS,
MIND YOU,
BUT RATHER A LACK
OF CREATIVE THOUGHT.
THUS PROVIDING A SMOOTH PLACE
FOR OTHERS TO TARRY UPON.
REASONING THERE WOULD BE
NO SUBSTANCELESS THUNDER
TO SHUDDER OVER.
THERE WOULD BE NO ORAL WIND.
I RATHER SEE IT STANDING TALL IN TRUTH.
I RATHER IT SIMPLY BE WHAT IT IS.
FOR ITS MAKER GAVE IT LOVE ABOUND
AND ENDLESS SUBSTANCE WITHIN.
THE MAKER KNOWS
BUT DO YOU SEE
THAT THE VOICES,
THE MANY VOICES OF THIS WORLD
ARE SIMPLY...,
ILLUSIONARY WIND.
S Bryant Lewis
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