Can You Hear
Can you hear the soft whispers of the wind in the trees?
Or the soft stillness of the grass?
Can you hear the soft rustling of leaves as they move down the street?
Or the stillness of nothing as they lay beneath your feet?
Can you hear the soft heartbeat as you walk across the path? Or the stillness of nothing as you walked that forgotten path?
Can you hear the coldness as it surrounds you?
Or taste the fear of death that invites you?
Can you hear and see the darkness that waits as it creeps along the path?
Or do you wait for it, hoping that it will pass you by?
Can you hear the silenced screams in the wind, the silent whispers?
Or is it right behind you walking down the path?
I can hear you, for I am Death, and wait as you turn around. Nor do I wait for you to listen as I wait for you to scream.
It is not the cold you feel but my fingers around you.
It is my footprints you cannot hear as I stand behind you.
I hear your heart beating; it cries out to me, not in fear. It bids me welcome. The whispers are silent as my breath blows through the leaves and trees. I walked the path beside you gladly because you could not hear me.
Now, can you hear me?
Or do you scream? Eric J. Shepherd