The voice that speaks in the silence of my unheated room,
frost smoke in morning light and ice crystals of judgment
that lack passion, and logic too has the seed of insanity,
the lunatic is so clear that his view infects his psychiatrist.
The voice within is not always reliable subjected as it is
to the mood of the day. Sunman, rainman even snowman
want a word in the interior drama of talent and failure.
A dissonance of voices around the conference table and
everyone is your copy…but you can't listen to them all,
a choice has to be made, the art is to choose the right one.
