Silent in the wilderness of life they call
Silent in the world this life
So loud you cannot hear them
So quiet you feel their screams trying to explode through your mind
It goes on
It is constant in this monotonous world we have created
A mantra for the doomed
No matter how much money they might have made
No matter how little
The shining light it seems evades my grasp
I’m not a negative person by nature
Man has molded me
From the day I was born
Until the day I die
I have made my decisions on the actions of those around me
I have made my belief built on those that care not for anything
For those that gave their lives without thought
Diving into raging waters knowing they would never surface
Those that raced into burning houses given a zero chance of emerging
The good of this world drives me to find even more
The evil that seems to ooze from every pore causes me to turn away in distaste
I find myself at a point in life
What is good and what is Evil
Who is the dominant?
What is it that should push me to my final path?
How do I know that all of this is true too the words of God?
A God who never really told his tale
It was told by man
And we all know just how feeble man can be given a power from up on high
How much of what we know is truth?
How do we truly know we are on the right path?
Will there be signs to point the way?
I think not
We are alone
Maybe that is one of the tests
One of the many we must endure
Who can say my words are not the true words of God?
Who can say that homeless man that screams his words as he staggers through the cities streets is not telling the truth?
We cannot push all we hear away
We must learn that God is everywhere
Who says he can’t tell us the truth from the cracked lips of man that has not bathed in weeks
Who says he could not be heard from the mouth a woman that sold her child for drugs
Or a teenager that killed a father and his son for the small contents in his wallet
Listen to the words
Not from where they come
Listen to what they say
Listen to who is saying them
Maybe I’m wrong
Maybe I deserve the fate that is waiting for me
Who can say
Maybe a poet that thinks a little like I do
Once they hear of my death
Sickened by humanity they will put pen to paper
They will tell the tale of my passing
My waste of life by the hands of a murderer
Who whispered the words of God