Those who count such matters
Tell us that nine billion human
Souls tread this hurtling dust-
And-water second rate orb that
Speeds along at rates we can
Barely imagine.
Of these nine billion human
Souls, let us suppose that,
For whatever reason, one fifth
Are unable or unwilling to talk,
Thus we have something like
Seven billion, two hundred million
Human souls who chat away
Daily: How many words does
Each soul utter each day? Each
Hour? One hundred? Two hundred?
One thousand? More?
Billions of human souls
Whispering, crying, singing,
Chanting, murmuring,
Questioning, imploring, arguing,
Agreeing, wondering, screaming,
Praying.
Billions of human souls, pouring out
Billions upon billions of words,
Launching them through the air:
Hopes, longings, instructions,
Details, abstractions,
Fears, joys, hates, loves.
Day after day, billions upon billions
Filling this dust-and-water orb with
The sounds of human souls, sounds
Dissipating, we know-imagine,
Into the wind, vanishing into the quiet.
But these billions upon billions of words
Uttered by these billions of human souls
Might turn into platonic bullets,
And speed immaterially into orbit,
Then out again,
Into the cosmos, not wasting away
As physics demands, but imagine
All those longings and hopes and
Whisperings riding some
Cosmic wave
These billions and billions from
The mouths of the billions
Stretching, reaching, twisting
Through the cosmos
To the Ultimate Source, to some
Divine Ear, if ear it be,
Who captures and attends and
Treasures each sentence, word,
Syllable, sigh.
May what I prayed
Yesterday
Wend its way to
Its just destination
Tomorrow.
Mine, too.