| Listen to the wind as it whispers to the trees Eavesdrop on the leaves as they rustle their reply What secrets do they share that we know naught about? Pretending not to care, we seek to drown them out. So clutter all the air with noise For we have all there is to say And make the trees all into toys So we can fill up all our days Then weep aloud because there are no secrets left All is silence; all that is, is emptiness. No hidden mystery remains to be enjoyed For we know everything that we have not destroyed |
| Listen |
| Joel Lewis |