We surround ourselves
with noise,
with voices, music,
abstract chatter.
We generate sound
to dim the roar
of silent solitude:
we huddle deep in emptiness.
Inside we are alone.
The haunted look
of passers-by,
the artificial sound
of forced mirth and laughter;
despite multitudes around us,
we feel so solitary.
Holding tight
to family and friends,
we stumble our lonely path.
Oh, most of the time
we get by, we cope,
and manage,
but here, deep inside,
there is no “us”, just “I”.
If we could just step back
and hear, and truly listen,
we might catch a fragile echo
of the singularity of all.
So let us, then, just realize
this echo fills our minds,
and, hearing, know we’re not alone,
but part of a mighty chorus.
The song we sing presently,
is just about ourselves:
we must now change our tune,
and write a different song
together.
