Voce, vox the unkempt power to express through words; opinion, error and emotion to be captured as time’s evidence for or against each man.

The tongue’s missive. An attempt at true power to connect, defect, embrace or deny allegiance to either sin and regret or peace and everlasting.

Tired, so weary of the attempt at camouflage or caution. Never wanting the authority to shame, blame or contain the inner fire touching each man’s heart.

What emperor conquered before claiming he would? What woman brought man to heel before challenging the right order of things in universal proclamation?

What may we hope in our own acclaim of fair use in power? The Spirit is my wind chime, consistently demonstrating alliance with the Will of our King.

Yet, the self expression’s fire is found in steering vessel with tiny keel. These words, this organic mechanism creating a unique projection into which is sown; anger, measure or love.

What makes a brook babble so? What calms the nerve of those afraid? What brings conflagration to misery in the pyres of yonder war camps?

In silence the true emergence of self. The lack of wielded sword, incessant quietude or prolonged call for valor and or impatience.

These are the elucidation of man’s true might before God, to humbly silence the spoken gift or to make known the glory and majesty of the King of Kings in each emitted sound.