Of the softest whisper,
Blowing through the leaves of the tallest trees,
Past the widest desert,
Barely captured by the deadest of ears,
Upon a windswept plain,
Amidst the screams of a million people,
Hammering beside a moving freight train,
In a thunderstorm of epic expanse,
In unfamiliar words,
Speaking a truth denied for centuries,
Even when it was heard.
That’s what I want,
If given the option,
Of being lauded for the sweetest voice,
Fueled by the fear of persecution.
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