Satisfy the Mind » Podcast

Picture your words
Flying into the night of another mind.
Hear your thoughts weave their story
By making noise
And saying something
About life
Or nothing
About death.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
About the awful silence that awaits.
Where are we going
And who is waiting there?

See your music
Weave a pleasant cacophony
Of life’s bustle.
Listen to your dance
Boogie ‘round the jukebox
That only you can hear
Yet everyone understands.
Hear your poetry
Ring ‘round the four corners
And into the ears of
The night.
The night of another’s mind.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
About the silence that awaits us.
We can hear the toll.
Our poetry will remain
But our voice will not.

Watch their song
In your life.
See how it changes your tune
And makes it better
Or worse.
And when it makes your tune
More singable
More people can see you
In the composition.
And you can see more music
That you’ve ever seen before.
The verse is always better
When the chorus is shared.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
About that which we cannot know.
The sound is that which we make
When we breathe out
After we breathe in.

Listen to the sight
Of another’s song
Emanating from their
Cerebral vortex.
Picture their words
Flying into the night
Of your mind.
Hear the existence of love
And life and hate and fear
And know that their song
Is yours.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
About the meaning of the song.
But the song is also the dance
Which is waiting
For a downbeat.

Lend an ear to the Hebrews
And the Egyptians
And those from Palestine
And those in America
And all who,
With dark and light skin
Write poetry that is different
But identical.
Hearken to all those
Who whirl through the stars
Together.
Our blue ball
Spins and sputters its way
Carrying all of us
Who are waiting to be heard.
Our song will one day be silent
While the spinning globe,
Which is always silent,
Will go on dancing
In the company of stars.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
About galactic motion.
We are not the cause,
Yet we are a part
Of the dance.

Tune in to the prose
That tells the story
Of our song.
We are sounds
That make our story heard
Yet hearing is as important
As making.
Listening binds the night of our mind
To the night of another’s
So that the song
And the dance
And the poetry
Can be different
Yet identical.

We are all sounds
Waiting to be made
Waiting to be heard
Waiting to be seen
Wanting to know the truth
When the truth doesn’t always
Want to know us.
Yet to sing is to know
And to hear is to see.

Feel my hand in yours,
Palms sweaty
With the truth
Of the tune
And the lyrics
And the choreography
Of the cacophony
That will one day
Be silent.
Hand in hand
Go sweat and fear,
Mine and yours
Co-mingling to write a song
That no one wants to sing
Yet everyone knows the words to.
Let us sing a new song
And feel not sweat
But a way forward
Together.

We are all sounds
Wishing to be created
Waiting to be heard
Hoping to be seen
Daring to fling across space
And into the night of another’s mind.
Wanting to know the truth.
Wanting to know love.
Wanting to harmonize and to dance.

I tell you,
Hear a new song
In the night of your mind.
For to hear is to see
To see is to know.
And to know
Is everything.

The content in this rss feed is licensed under Creative Commons by Satisfy the Mind.