Soft the voice

A still soft voice once made self heed to me
Speaking in the middle of the ravag’d storm
Softly. Softly, yet
Slow, but yet translucent…
Shining clear by itself
Like the last rays of the enfeebled sun
On a misty and cloudy day
On that gray dawn,
When I splashed through streams
Cluttered with last year’s snow
Whisper’d slow
What it had seen a day far distant back

And I know not why I heed it
For I had no meaning to me
Whispered
The world is… yours. Live it large…
And I was left to wonder
Could I have dreamt it all?
For I searched again for that soft voice,
Fleeting yet I caught it once and
Yet it wasn’t the same…