Silence, As It Should Be

The Earth has been turned to stone,
The mouths of the plants sewn shut,
The night lights below are now equal to the ones above.

The noises of our machines overwhelm us,
Our voices drown in acrid spirits to forget
When in fact it is we can't remember.

Even the animals have become like we are,
They give love at the sound of an opening can.
Blue electrical waves dance across our minds
And we call them dreams.

Small consolation we could finally conquer the moon
When all that was left there was dead pebbles.
We create anything but silence, because our blood knows
There was once sound there.

Life has become death, and death becomes life.
Illusions become shared, become real
And we are masters of tearing them all down
Without a replacement, just hope
There is an end to our searching

But there is no end,
The truth has been lost, and we are left with its conditions
Herding us in like pens, in a place where we can't find ourselves
Because we can't see behind, and we can't see ahead.

But even if we see nothing when we pray
We have faith in the meaning we create.

We can hear in the largeness of the silence
Our own voice, the opening syllables
In the creation of a soul.