It is the reverberation of the Jungle Cat’s roar. It comes as a calling, a warning, a story. It is mostly silence so when it comes it is heard.
It is a drop of water that lands in a once steel pool morphed into ripples, ever expanding. It is the laughter of children, chasing cotton from the trees. The stories of women that are heard within the aroma of saffron paella. The texture and colour of their woven tapestries.
Voice is the strength of a man constructing a home. And the comfort of his embrace. The honesty of his tear.
This voice is not constant chatter. It is not the drone of gasoline engines or the irradiating hum of our cell phones. It is not posturing for power or reacting in fear.
It is the sound of blood pulsing through our veins. Blood rushing with the water that gives it life. Water cleansed by rocks and earth after it cascades down waterfalls from mountains to rivers to the ocean and back up to the sky to rain. It is the air in our lungs that oxygenates our blood. The air that we breath that circulates our earth within the clouds and within the rustling of the leaves. Leaves of the amazon forest trees. The forest exhales the oxygen that allows us to live. And nurtures the plants that keep us healthy and alive. The amazon is burning. Who’s voice is that ?
Voice is a portal to eternity. Sound travels further than we can comprehend. Spectrums we can not hear. Superficially it can harm. Time and perspective reveal the truth. Withers the why behind the sound to its bones. Etching and carving like wind and water through stone.
The true voice is unyielding love. Unbelievable, tender fortitude. Our breath against a vocal cord. A seed within moist dirt, heated by sun. Wind in a bamboo forest. Pressure under thousands of feet finally finding a way to escape.
Beauty, the time we humans have had the honour to hear. Though it may not last long for our ears. There may be another kinds more worthy. Unless.....we are a vessel by which to keep the voice alive.