Beyond What The Ear Can Feel

I have no song

Every song that might have been mine

Is yours

From the trumpet beats

To the mournful chords

And the raging drums

They are all yours

Every song, every verse,

Every lament we rehearse

To an audience we can only curse

They are yours

But I will find mine

My songs are the quiet ones

The tired ones

With voices you have to strain

To hear

With quiet meaning you never

Listen to

I am without a title

Without an artist

No album embalms my heart

I am the whisper of the breeze

Through skeleton white trees

I am the crash of the fallen

The shatter of the broken

I have no melody to share

My grievances, my demons

Are mine alone to bare

I am the permafrost behind

A far off stare

And I would ask you to beware

Because I am beyond

What is heard

I am

Behind what is felt

I am

That woeful silent

I am

A tone-deaf thing

A pitchless scream

Beyond what the ear

Can feel

I am, I am

I am