Voice

 

I am the voice

The whisperer through the flowers stem

The mile high eagles gaze

The heartbeat of the creeping mouse

 

I sing the wind

Roll on the hard coasts rocks

Growl in the mountains heart

A molten fire of gold

 

Bright

Light and quiver swift

I dance upon the spinning leaves

 

Slow

Deep and dark amber

Liquid muscle of the rivers flow

 

There never was a time

When I was not

Nor will not be

Coming with me

You already are.

 

JERA

 

 

Voice – by Jera
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