"The Voices" Poem

"The Voices"

The Voice of Freedom is a beautiful thing,

It flows through me causing my heart to flutter.

I won't speak because I might stutter,

While it replays in my mind all the time,

For I might find a sign, (within these lines).

The world around me is dark,

So is the journey I embark.

The only light from up above.

The moon is magnificent and mysterious,

Making me feel a little delirious,

Looking down on me like he does.

The Voice rings about my ears once more,

It's a sound that I adore.

Though this time it's not alone,

Like a tapestry that is sewn.

Joined by more like a heavenly choir.

The Voice's situation is rather dire.

All at once the Voices sing,

I'm frozen in awe, for it is a beautiful thing.

The Voices sing in a language I do not know,

For I hope they don't forgo.

I can not understand-- nevertheless I still listen,

I might just learn a lesson,

For it sings of love, teamwork, beauty,

Family, friendship, and Freedom.

They sing for a reason, it is their duty.

Oh what I would give to see one,

Those who yearn for freedom.

They run across their lands, gracefully yet strong.

Running with family, with friends,

Singing their beautiful songs.

Killing only what they need, and showing thanks for it!

The Voices will not quit!

They sing in respect to their prey,

So they can live another day.

They sing to their families, their homes, the moon,

Don't look at me like I'm some loon!

They sing-- for they yearn to be Free, Free--

Truly Free to be themselves, instead of on shelves.

The Voice of Freedom is beautiful,

It's not that unusual.

It's tragic that they are dying out,

Their time has almost ran out.

For hunters and farmers chase them down,

The thought just makes me frown.

More and more voices fade into the night,

Singing of their plights, fights, and sights.

They are dying out,

Their lights are going out,

One by one, or ton by ton.

Soon nothing will be sung.