Does steam have a scent as it flees from oppressive liquid?,my mind prompts me yes.
Does soil,chained and bound to the ground,emit any sound?
Does a passing cloud,inanimate,have a voice,a song, a noise?
What is identity, I fear my mind is clouded and cannot see, the beauty of the unknown perhaps staring at me.
One may disagree yet how can that be when love is a language spoken for eternity.
When a kiss has a scent, a key, a mirror and harrowing visibility.
When a heart,banshee wail it often emits can scream a song of tragedy and plead through desperate wails.
I fear the song the silent sing and the language the 'dumb' speak.
I curse the scents I cannot detect and the beauty that is hidden,of which only a fraction shall ever seep
Into the conciousness of us ignorant mortals baffled by divinity.