A Whisper

This whisper lived within a heart,
For a moment that stood too long,
Nurturing an existence that knew no future,
Waiting for a chance, one sombre day,
That it would meet the coolness of the breeze,
And accompany it to the edge of existence,
So what thoughts it ever had,
Or what words it ever formed in air to speak,
Would find a way outside the heart's prison,
In a world, where flight becomes freedom.

One sombre day, the heart in despair,
Looked at the dungeon of love, empty,
For the heart knew not of escape,
Of what it had vowed to grasp for eternity,
The emptiness of the heart filled,
The vacuum that the whisper had left behind,
And the heart then beat slower, knowing,
From the breeze's guilty silence,
That it had been an accomplice in escape,
Of the imprisoned whisper within the heart.

Ages past, the sun rose and fell,
Nights chased days and darkness hid light,
Dawns kissed the hopes of hidden desires,
And sunsets took down with them, the same,
The heart grew wise with time, in absence,
Of what had been its reason for bearing time,
It had finally been convinced of a truth,
That the only breeze worth life itself,
Was one that blew boths ways in times,
That spanned the hearts of two lovers.

Grew weak the heart of time,
For time is an imp of nature,
Parading itself important when it is only,
In importance, a mere nuisance,
The heart old, lived and lived, feeling,
The emptiness that now filled the vacuum,
Time had almost convinced it, of unworthiness,
Of something the heart waited till death's bed,
But before God asked His angels to end time,
The angels' duty became the whisper.

Time ended in an explosion of white, then nothingness,
The heart though in duty's way beat louder than forever,
Immersing itself in an inundation of joy,
The heart beat slower then, slower, slower before it stopped.