The Voice

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