No one stops to listen

No one ever stops to listen



As father and son move towards the forest in search of woods, Papa begun to recount some of his displeasures of his world



No one stops to listen

My son, no one

Always moving in the direction of nowhere

Always busy in search of nothing

Always haste, yet stale



My son, no one ever stops to listen



Busy are we to the whispers

Busy are we to the feel of the gentle touch

Busy are we to the tune of the still voices

Busy are we to notice the silent one who forever wave



My son, no one ever stops to listen



Till whispers become screams

Till gentle touches become blows

Till still voices are drowned in the sea of time

Till the people who matter forever fade



My son, no one stops to listen



Till sparks become flames

Leakages become floods

Cracks become avalanches

Love become indifference

Hope becomes despondency



It is only then that we ever stop to listen.





Pack the woods quickly, for danger lurks in hte midst of the night