The Whisper Of Time

A hidden mystery whispers sweetly across the ravines of time,
across hemispheres of history untainted by heartbreak,
nor lost in the cliches of rhyme.

Though the poet searches for words and the actor seeks to recreate,
the spotlight lingers upon an empty stage, and the heart skips a beat as it traverses,
looking for something real not imagined,
unsatisfied by imitations nor quenched by the fake.

And so I searched this world, wandering across the dirty barren earth,
down lonely city streets I lingered, listening for the whisper,
but no sound was found, nothing of worth.

And so hungry and tired, I threw myself down, upon the rock,
despondent, for if there were a whisper, it would not be found;
not by these hands, nor by these ears, it was just an ancient rumor,
an echo of truth, just a ripple in the pond.

And upon that rock I lay, unable to stand or lift a hand,
I lay down my dream of love, I gave up all hope,
I laid down every single plan.

It was only then that I heard you whisper…
for you lay upon the same rock,
and you were more than I could ever imagine, you were beyond my dreams
you were more than a whisper, you were worth the search.

And so I discovered the mystery that whispers sweetly across the ravines of time,
was not a rumor, a false hope, a fantasy or a lie, it was found upon that rock,
in the caress of your hand, in the warmth of your embrace, in the love in your eyes.


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