Memoirs

I sing when the birds go quiet, When my heart bleeds and silence is my riot. I stutter when wind hits east, When I sit with the dead for a feast. I gaze at your feet when there's nothing left to see, When I write unreality and want to be free. I tear the walls of distance with the words as they complete. We know it's not enough yet I can not flee. From the mountains of memoirs and logs of our times, Our history of love and records of our crimes. That music of laughter that melody of sighs. That powerful bond of the ever lasting fright. Do sing when I go silent please, Do write the story of our passing creed, Make silence your riot and with dead have a feast. Love someone who could matter to you...at least.