I am but a voice, a silent word, br written on paper, seen and not heard, br an echo of heart to touch your soul, br sweet pangs of sorrow's bitter control. br br I am but a voice, woe of the world, br wintry wind-whips of a flag unfurled, br hidden chambers that rumble with sound, br the mournful notes of leaves on the ground. br br I am but a voice, winter's cold kiss, br dwindling dew-drops faint tinged with bliss, br dust of the earth scattered to the sea, br the voice of the world, this voice is me. br br I am but a voice, dancing the dim, br unbridled dispersion in a hymn, br the flower of love withered and gray, br quick caught in the stronghold of dismay. br br I am but a voice, but known by all, br the vine of silence against the wall. br I am poured in dark wine, bitter-sweet, br to desirous lips that seek retreat. br br I am but a voice, a gray-haired sage. br I live and learn through every age; br and through all times, the words still ring true, br the voice speaks the heart inside of you.