A crisp morn’s clarion call As the world’s chaos ramps up It guides and heals Soothes my sorrowful core Provides solace in this madness Fills the void left by murder and death With creation and elation To think The Voice was almost lost The abject sorrow of the silenced artist Must have been Inconceivable Thinking it was all over Scalpel to throat Cutting out oblivion’s carrier Yet pure joy can never be stifled The Voice revived More grateful now, more humbled Back again, hiatus over That’s where I first heard The Voice Saving me from my darkest depths Pushing back all that destroys The Voice came closer still Whispered in my ear Breathlessly spoke my name Leaned in with soft, affectionate tones Before called once more to the stage To scream and moan and wail How I long for its closeness How I desperately want it to be mine But The Voice belongs to all Spreading love and light across the universe Through dulcet then screaming tones So I must be content to listen To feel and be moved from afar Hoping someday it will find its way back To spill my honeyed name into my ears But if not May The Voice continue to live on Calling out comfort to the wounded So they can live to fight another day