I am Listening

Sometimes I think I hear a voice.
Not in the natural, auditory sense
But a voice directed toward my center
An intimate voice
I have heard in shout
And whisper.

It is a warm voice
Soothing
Comfortable.

It is an alluring voice
Flirting
Teasing.

It is a sad voice
A note of “I shall see ye ‘neer again.”

It is a disturbing voice
For which I strain to listen
Yet there is but silence.

Across the vast spectrum
Of auditory range I wander
Listening
Ever listening.

And sometimes I think I hear
The voice
And test the sample
Against all I know.

Yet the quiet returns
Leaving me frustrated and alone.

Speak again
Dear one
Speak.

I am listening.