Susurrus
Whispers, echoes of words that float soft upon the wind like ghosts of old,
everywhere and nowhere, gossamer shadows of thoughts and deed.
Huge old basilica, or temple grand, or tabernacle humble, they make bold,
filling the silences and halls with subtle sounds of their passing, as on they lead.
Sweet words, or cruel, vicious, and vaporous, they are and will be forever there,
inhabiting the places like tenants who have overstayed their allotted time.
Changing lives and histories, tool of the deciding Fates, often with no care,
leaving behind still more susurrus, often with neither reason or rhythm.
Always soft of volume, yet often blaring in nature, enough to disrupt all peace,
altering the moment’s mood, and leaving behind a soul in tears.
Listen to the whispers, and come to understand the power of the susurrus released,
be careful of your soft words my friend, for they have power to rend and sear.