Voices
Matthew O.

These whisp’ring voices heard by ears of mind
Do lead us great sleepwalkers, deaf and blind

The world’s too wicked cruel for hearts so mild
But don’t mistake me, I’m no helpless child
No drifting wayward sheep, but creature wild

After the voices, reasons we’ll then find
Despite the disbelief of humankind

The blesséd saints and pagan gods of old
Begin as naught but songs and stories told
And cross the sea on winds so false and cold

Unborns and angels straight from hell’s divine
Forbid us perish every age of time

Echoes of thunder ling’ring codes at night
To save a visionary’s sight of sight
And pass these doors to pale of morning light

Eternal paradise ne’er will remind
Of strains and pains of mortals left behind