There is a voice that I can not deny,
Coloured into the hues of a lullaby.
All the joys and the nothings,
all the symphonies of the passers-by.
There is a voice that shall not die —
Whispers into each goodbye,
unto a starless sky of blues.
Uttering breeze of a bashful muse.
Then unto the doves of a budtime sky,
A voice that spoke of God and guy.
Wilderness could but reply,
But it could say nothing
for the questions of everything.
For only I can know the whys,
all What-fors, whences, wherebys;
Only I can whisper “Hello” in a “Goodbye”
can speak of joys of God & guy,
& the nothings and the everything
unto a world that can’t but die
— If not for us, If not for I…