Unaltered Voice

Yes, I have heard the noise,

From the brocades down.

An unaltered voice, 

Fought for the divine crown.

For ages, life has thought,

How meager a day it has.

Despite the golden pot,

It went on hunting trash.

Selfless moods do speak,

Amidst the selfish mind.

No heed to words of weak,

Pushing them behind.

I can hear them shout,

Unaltered voices roar.

Painful drops flow out,

Through the mortal door.

Tiny souls of grace,

Came to speak a word.

Humans in their race,

Chose the sharpest sword.

No voice had ever felt,

So painful blow of the sword.

They saw those snowcaps melt,

Smelling through their word. 

Their voices come again,

Yet in fits of a chore.

Humans so insane,

Drop them on the floor.

They strangle them to death,

Till they lose the voice.

No words will take a breath,

From that filthy noise.

Still in different forms,

They will come again.

Amidst the fearful storms,

Like those drops of rain.