In my inner ear, beyond all the hearing of all other ears, the voice never dies
I cannot say what operas it sings, what oratory it soars to...
I. . .am. . .so. . .slow to note its ways and wonders, its whys and whys not; my fingers are run ragged...
Once upon a time, the silence would end my days, now, only weakness. . .prevents. . .
. . .a deafening. . .
. . .ROAR!
Poetry of themusic