The Faintest Of Whispers
Do you hear it? That quiet melody?
It is no more then a faint whisper in the distance,
But if one were to look and listen carefully you can hear it ever-so slightly, echoing though the tired messes of every nation.
One must just stop and listen, it may just a quiet whisper, but it grows evermore certain, as numerous voices comes to join it's chorus.
What will you do when it's quiet melody ignites to millions of thundurus voices singing in unison, their doubts dispelled, their voice shaking the very foundations of our world
That even the deathest of men can't ignore it's calls what will become of you?
For it is the song of the angry downtrodden and it grows moreover louder.
So I implore you, stop even just for a moment,
listen to it's emotional melodies,
Hear it's muse not in fear, but listen in compassion
For it must be asked, the question that one day be forced to answered by those whom ignored it's melody, those whom silence it's chorus of the past.
Do you hear the people sing?