The Man Who Could Read Minds
A blur of noise
Misappropriated sound
Swirled in his head
Round and round
Days upon days
He tried to curtail
The voices he could hear
To no avail
Once he was sane
Now he felt mad
He couldn't drown out
The good or the bad
Until one day he saw
A sign on his door
"Come to Red street, Gold Shore -
House number four"
He followed instructions
Waited anxiously outside
From within he could hear a buzzing
Like bees in a hive
The door finally opened
And low and behold
Inside was a vortex
Of sounds uncontrolled
He was whisked inside
Without so much as a "how do you do?"
By a man he couldn't describe
In a waistcoat of gold and blue
The rest was a blur,
It went on for hours,
He was drained of all thought,
Until he lost his powers.
Blank and empty,
He lay stunned on the floor,
Unable to discern own thoughts,
From the vortex's unintelligible roar.
It was as though the sound,
Had swallowed his vision,
He could no longer see,
Of his own volition.
Until the man stood before him,
His waistcoat shining bright,
"I've taken the voices from you,
And returned to you your sight."
Now released from the vortex,
He stumbled out the door,
And stood on the pavement,
In silence and awe.
For he was surrounded by people,
Their mouths open, a'clatter,
Yet not a sound would come out,
No more infernal chatter.
And in lieu of the voices,
He heard true meaning spoken,
A beautiful melody
The sound of emotion.
With tears of joy in his eyes,
He cried out to the crowd,
But none turned to hear him,
He spoke in emotion, not sound.
When he turned the house had vanished,
A park had taken its place,
He sat on the swing set,
And stared into space.
The world turned around him,
And he was shaken to the core,
As he heard the sounds of nature,
He had never heard before.
For the rest of his days,
He spoke not a word,
He reached out in emotion,
But none who saw him heard.
If you stop to listen,
And ignore the voices in your head
Maybe you too will regain vision,
And hear truly what is said.
_________________
Into the dark...