Poetry: The Ventriloquist

A voice was thrown across the world
A shallow little unheard voice
It existed in all of the forms
That all the world loves
To ignore

I sat so long staring in stride
Out of a window, lofted high
And yet that staring far
And wide did not aid
Me at all

That tiny, little unheard voice that
Soared so far across all of time
It was a voice I'd long forgotten
And I once conceived it may
Have been mine

I still sit staring at the window
But now I'm shrinking in my
Seat, and my shoulders are
Now hunching with the
Pain of my defeat

The little voice is gradually fading
It's lost among six billion more
And with it goes my hope
Of Ages, my hope of ever
Gaining choice

I cannot move from that high window
I can only sit and stare and try
And fail to think of what
I've been missing so far
In my life

When that voice comes back around
The world and to my window up
So high; it is so sadly garbled
That I crumble under its
Sound

Because waiting for that little voice
Was the purpose of my sedentary
Life, and because I have now
Lost its meaning to the world
I have also lost my mind

posted to dVerse