There is something about the things that were never said
That linger in the hollows of memory, carving silence,
The things we say to ourselves,
Putting dreams to words and wishes.
Somewhere the lonely coldly sit,
And children with distant eyes, hunger,
Lovers, now back-turned, seek solace,
The scars of distrust still raw.
Come, bring peace and silence to a warring world,
Carry water to the parched,
Bread to the starving,
Softness to the wandering and wounded.
Love lasts, words are fleeting
Silence can be filled.
