Voices that echo across centuries,
Are often too loud for their contemporaries.
Thus geniuses quickly learn to whisper,
And funnel the unexpressed thunder,
Into tears,
And lonely masturbation…
Oh, what damnation,
To be the source of elation!
Only when the genius ceases to breathe,
And people can deceivedly believe,
That the sounds are those of immortal sages,
Can the whispers blossom into voices,
That echo through the ages…