My eyes still behold the beauty of nature when I look at open fields.
My ears still hear the story behind each song's chords.
My nose still smells the fragrance of the wildflowers in bloom.
My soul still feels the stirrings in the coming of a storm.
My tongue still tastes the pain of those who always suffer.
How many left still know these sensations?
Are the child's tears covered by the bell of a cash register?
Are we void of emotions?
Or are we merely resigned to having starvation and pain in our world?
We cried out, "Food, not bombs! Love, not war!"
But our voices were never heard, their answers parried our demands.
"This is what we need, this is what we'll do!"
Their words conveyed their belief that they knew all,
We knew nothing
Our voices will fade
And we will blindly follow.
Isolated, we hear cries of pain and know not what to do.
"Am I alone? Do I alone see these injustices and cruelties?"
Though many may hear, no one will speak.
Our solitude stops us from acting.
As time continues, fewer hear, fewer see, fewer feel.
No one will taste the pain, because no one will believe that it still exists.
When a voice cries out,
No one will answer.