I am but a voice, a silent word, <br />written on paper, seen and not heard, <br />an echo of heart to touch your soul, <br />sweet pangs of sorrow's bitter control. <br /> <br />I am but a voice, woe of the world, <br />wintry wind-whips of a flag unfurled, <br />hidden chambers that rumble with sound, <br />the mournful notes of leaves on the ground. <br /> <br />I am but a voice, winter's cold kiss, <br />dwindling dew-drops faint tinged with bliss, <br />dust of the earth scattered to the sea, <br />the voice of the world, this voice is me. <br /> <br />I am but a voice, dancing the dim, <br />unbridled dispersion in a hymn, <br />the flower of love withered and gray, <br />quick caught in the stronghold of dismay. <br /> <br />I am but a voice, but known by all, <br />the vine of silence against the wall. <br />I am poured in dark wine, bitter-sweet, <br />to desirous lips that seek retreat. <br /> <br />I am but a voice, a gray-haired sage. <br />I live and learn through every age; <br />and through all times, the words still ring true, <br />the voice speaks the heart inside of you.<br /><br />Linda Marie Van Tassell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-but-a-voice/
