I shimmer in the light in an evenings glance as the tiny particles of my existence drift from the creases of my eyelids I awake to the silent calls of my spirit screaming. It calls in the night and howls in the day of moon, but stars seek it’s growth and drown its groan upon heavy noon.
I am the outcast of color and radiate light of all angels for no one sees but eyes that look and no one hears but ears that open. I am the silent spoken and when I speak I am heard by one upon many. I am looked past and not upon and sometimes it bring comfort and sometimes it brings pain.
Night knows my calling and day bleeds my sounds in heavy traffic and feet upon pavement claw at my gown, it is torn. I am but a whisper in the heavy wind and I am but a tree that falls in the distance, do I make a sound?
There is a moment of my breath held in silence and a moment when a scream is heard without a sound from my lips. When words are not spoken but thoughts are still heard. I communicate through more than the voice I contain and the words I type fingertips hitting keypads upon devices on knees. There is a moment of hunger that bleeds through the creases of my ongoing crown that shines in the distance, but drowns in the mirror you gaze upon as a reflection that is not your own.
I am a stranger but in some angels I turn you recognize.
Do you know what this means, it is something different for you than it is for me and that is the beauty of strength in a spoken word.
What is your strength?