People talk

An idea that came over me when at mass at Christmas

People talk
Of whispers in the dark
Of death bells tolling
Of lovers calling

All I hear are the mutterings
Of lost souls
Searching for sanctity, for safety
For forgiveness

They offer up their prayers around me
Bent heads and knees
Clasped hands
And I wonder

Is it sinfull
To ponder who it is
That receives our mumbles
Our hopes, our dreams?

Or are we just lazy
Wishing for things
We're not bothered to strive for
Is they're anyone there?

I had once lost hope in hoping
And in a dream lost sight of dreaming
While wishing upon a star
The wish tasted like ashes and smoke

They pray to be saved. I did too. Once.
I'd grown tired of waiting for myself
To change and grow
To become who I was

Not necesarily who I should be
Or who I wanted to be
Or who I could be
But who I was

I sit in a bright and musty church
Where I feel awkward and unsure
And think thoughts sinfull
Find in myself, a hope, a truth

People talk
No-one listens
Prayers are spoken
No-one listens

When people act
I will listen

But people talk
Yes people talk

The End

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