Orphaned Words, A Poem About Moving Toward Emptiness

Words are like stones
Tossed in waters to send ripples
That touch every shore.
But
The philosopher's journals are filled
With crayon scribbles.
We have sold our prophets
And put their voices in storage-
Lest we hear the questions
(and be the answers).
There are no new words,
Any new thoughts died
Of loneliness.
Reason was replaced
With passion;
It became old,
So we stored it away
On shelves with
Forgotten history books
About the Age of Exploration.
There is nothing left in the sound
Of our language
For lack of hearing.
And there will be nothing left
In the soul of our society
Slain by the silence of
The unspoken.


(c) Adron 2/22/15