A sound in the silence – a guitar, a voice, a bass, a voice; a song. Torn from the heart, delivered with a fevered soul. Speaking? A whisper, a first whisper:
 
Now let the empty words corrode
That feed upon your roaring soul
There was a hint a whispered line
A waltz composed in dead man’s time
Something too beautiful to grasp
Making thaw that iron mask
That like a wintry icy blur
Had covered up the dreams that stir
Beneath our fragile, fevered skin –
This life it is a wondrous thing.
 
Listen: soundcloud.com/speaking-silences
 
Read: speakingsilences.wordpress.com