When the wind passes by...
Silently listening, to the quiet whispers
concealed behind those hidden words
written on the hearts - often scarred, covered in thorns
longing to be touched, but received none.
Here it is.. seeing, feeling
sometimes pondering - sometimes, wondering
what these souls have gone through
and the paths they take each day
as it gaze, from a great distance
(and even if it is near, it presence never known)
at the emotions revealed before it
behind the masks, that no longer present.
No one knows, even itself
why its heart stirred - by a force not its own
to dance - and sing the secret tunes
of songs it never heard before
as it passes by, through the voiding darkness.
Knowing... that is why it is there for.
When the wind passes by.
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