Use your inside voice, to reach
deep beneath coral floor boards,
under knotted stained pine,
where feelings ripple sand and
rock garden, down there, even further
passed remembrances of fleeting loves
and lost circumstances.
Answer to your own call,
a brief chirp at first, then the low
gravelly request instating;
"heel, sit, lie down,
close your eyes,
open your mind."
Use your illusion, in times
of firearms and floral arrangements.
Use your outside voice,
to call upon stiffening winds,
carriers of ultra waves caught flattening
all foliage of fear in its path
and continuing onward and forwards.
Rolling out the crimson carpet
while still beckoning in anticipation,
the seductive finger of unknown origins
that dutifully calls so rambunctiously
out upon the thunderdome of your vision,
upon the jurisdiction of your better self,
the one slicing and dicing information
and digesting the whole of the land,
in noble self deed, to understand the more.
Now it is heard and oh, how it resonates
back from vocal ricochet and casts the die.