Like a fervent spring, is born this voice,
Shaped in the deepest of our selves,
Trickles of its murmurs haunt us,
Triggering our refusal with fear!

Have we in our bravest of times,
Encountered this secret longing?
The inner voice that begs admittance,
Have we tasted its waters?

When falsehood plays its game,
And truth stands its test,
Blowing like a cool, muslin breeze,
Comes this voice, within us.

Have we, in our keenest of senses,
Waited to hear its tale?
To hear what it reckons of us,
To listen to its apparent wail?

Even when its music floods the lake of silence,
And its coolness beats the polar wind,
We turn it away, lest,
Lest, we should be discovered!

Is this our fear, fear of our own selves?
In our world of openness,
We wait like a tired, snappy goose,
To forget our own revelations!

Has there been a past episode,
When we’ve turned down our Truth?
We’ve buried our beliefs, and strangled their throats,
And the inner voice dies silently,
Sleeping its eternal sleep of death,
Wherein it could awake,
Had someone nudged its existence!

And when today, I see astray,
Voices waiting to be heard,
Swimming passionately the sea of ignorance,
Yet gigantic weeds crumble their paths,
Pulling them down to the trenches of cowardice,
It is then, that I remember,
My voice, has been left unheard!!!