Just a voice

Who decides a meaningful life
or who will change the world?
We cry to the heavens
uncertain of who will hear,
Our purpose feebled by prejudice, and fear,
Can we validate or manipulate
our existence and reality?
Or do we exercise futility
with intellectual brutality?
Is abstract philosophy persuaded by pain?
Are we all convinced
our condition's in vain?
And we live in a truth
only words can explain?
Why our presence pertains
to our silence,
and our silence is by choice,
For if we are to change
we must continue believing
that our life has a meaning,
and we are not just a voice,