Echoes in the Void

This poem was a vision from the title.

Why is this we stop the sound
That picks our hearts up off the ground
And pushes us forward with the gentlest touch
And keeps our bodies controlled in the rush?
It’s a primitive need - a want in the soul
That cannot be denied - that is the power it holds.
It’s an ancient lust tenderly slowed
That seeps into the corners as a liquidy gold.
We cannot fight what’s all around
‘Cause the only silence is the sound.
The conscious mind will try so hard
To not let you find that integral part.
Listen carefully to the concert inside,
And by its rhythms do abide.
Picture the scenes it creates in your head,
And feel the moment of living instead.
Wrap it around you – a comforting cloak –
So many colours in the swirling smoke.
Reach up and out and let it guide.
Allow yourself the mindless ride.
For out of the void come the echoes of life,
And, just for now, make everything right.