God gifted me the power
of a cunning way with words.
But what use is a voice if a voice goes unheard?
Like a flare shot up against the sun,
I’m lost amidst the sound.
Like raindrops aplenty absorbed by soil,
I sink beneath the noise.
The wooing of a girl
drowned by a sun-soil crowd;
love’s not heard when lust is loud.
The Wireless Quill 