Do you hear the tiny
voice in your heart –
the one that you
only hear late, late
in the evening or at
odd, unexpected hours?
The one that is both
familiar and strange,
the one that fills you
with pleasure and
dread at the same time?
The one you want
more than anything,
and fear the having
more than the not
having?
It has a name: one
you dare not utter for
in speaking it aloud
you may give it form
and substance and
want and need and
desire. Realization
comes to those
who listen to the
music life plays
when we are not
listening. And
sometimes treasure is
discovered at a moment
least expected, in the
blink of an eye, or
among soulless pages
of strangers who’s
song you never heard
– until now.
I know the tiny voice
you hear for I hear it
each time I read your words
or see your likeness, or
whisper your name.