Notes carried as soft tremors inside the earth, shaping the land.
Vibrant hues whispering in rhythm to the spoken words,
The stars aligned together as if to sing a message,
A single hum widening a solitary path, leading to an open door.
But a dark hand grasps the lit-up knob,
And the sound is smothered in its hold
The hums fade, cast away into the distance,
Music notes dwindle into a slow death.
Where the notes die,
I lay the final bits of withering color from the roses,
Torn fallen petals,
Lay silently at the foot of the grave, as the world cascades into a monotone gray.
Let there be a future,
Where the burden of your troubles is not unheard of
Where a voice can become
A guide for those with unspoken sorrows.
Where stories will be thrown out in the open, exposed, and honest.
When we reveal our hearts and souls to forge bonds of trust
When we open the door shaped by what we have faith in,
And letting the unsung songs unravel.
