Heed the songs of the wind carried place to place.
As such occurrence is uncommon, far too magical.
In it are dreams of those far away. In it are wishes told by someone alone.
And when you hear a distinct one, a voice more empowering than the others,
come find me. Come, look for me.
Because only us can hear another.
I hear yours. I pray that you hear mine some day.
Come find me.
He’d think he was cazy by the age of 15 when he started noticing how his classmates were loud but their mouths weren’t moving. A chattering of 6-7 different tones all at the same time. Thing is, they were currently doing an important math test and talking wasn’t allowed. And yet his head was cringing with the flow of words coming in without halt. Nauseated, he rested his head and tried to block any of it.
It did work, even just a little while enough to focus on his test. He prayed even for a score to pass him this round. When he got back home to tell his Dad, all he got was a pat on the head and plateful of watermelon and a reassuring smile, “Perhaps, kid, they were really murmuring? Loud enough for you to hear it. Maybe.”
He thought he was insane when he was 15. And now he wasn’t by the age of 23 as he was convinced that he really, truly, could hear people’s thoughts.
It wasn’t all that too bad, really. Inside the work building with tons of employees engaged, he learned the Art of Voice Dissociation as he was able to segregate what he should and shouldn’t hear. Some thoughts were okay, some were bad, some were questionable and he respected each of those without ever using it against anyone. Why would he? He was actually in at an advantage to have an ability like he had. Heck, he could make a fortune out of it too! But choosing the work force where he could blend easily was far a safer move than to expose himself as the Great Thinker-Teller to point out what a person’s heart truly spoke of. It could be both a positive and negative thing. And he chose to place himself in between without a problem.
Just when he thought his life couldn’t get any unproblematic, he woke to a start to a murmur he “listened” to just as he was about to get up on bed one Saturday morning. It was faint at first, just like the rest of the voices from his neighbors or those who passed by his apartment until he stepped out of the balcony to bring in his aired laundry that the “voice” gradually got louder.
That steep mountain, intimidating. Would Nature be kind to someone like me?
To witness the other side and discover larger horizon, I must.
And yet the harsh roots hold me still; fear has bled from me.
Oh, it hurts. Unable to move, chained by my own shadow.
Would Nature be kind to someone as humanly weak as me?
His eye were wide while he stared towards the city view with no traces of forest or any land mass nearby. With everything he had heard in his life, willingly or otherwise, this one was too crystal clear as if the speaker stood next to him, speaking softly with a tone of fright and disheartedness. And yet this same voice rang of dreams and courage and it was the most soothing tone he ever heard. Like gentle spring that ran quietly in some uncharted timberland. Would he ever hear it again?
“Will I ever hear you?”
Who said? Did someone speak?
“Oh, wow,” he set his laundry basket next to his knee and he leaned against the railing to look ahead once more. “What that just good timing? Not as if they could hear me.”
I can… hear you?
Yes, I can hear you. And I’m not sure how you can with me because I’m not even moving my lips.
He was so surprised that he jolted backwards that rattled his glass door because of the impact. Covering his mouth, he inwardly responded, trying once more, “So even my thinking you can hear it….?”
Mmm. It would seem so.
This, by far, the strangest Saturday he awakened too. Too strange. So he wasn’t the only one in the world with the same ability as his? More importantly, just who was the speaker on the other side? And…. where were they?
“Hey, just now, you sounded really…. poetic. What you just said, that is.”
Ah. Oh. I was… well… I was writing a lyrics. I’m… composing a song. I think.
And so it began, an odd relationship between him and the distant voice.