empathy

Speaking
Volumes
But I'm feeling
Quiet

Is everything under the sun still sacred?
Has all of my empathy abdicated?
That feeling of learning a word
A meaning
And hearing it all of the time
The fleeting prose

Leaving me up to my own devices
There's something about it that kills me softly
While
I'm inconsequentially spinning my own web
Catching the pollen and anything that's left

Wouldn't it be nice to find a place
Your sadness was a privilege you could play in?
Where everything under the sun is kin
And everything under the sun is sacred

(It's always been right in front of you)