Good Intentions

This is what it's like to be deaf:
Cancer sounds a lot like life
and everything smells the way of childhood
God frowns on the the ocean tides
because repetition just doesn't feel right
We are here, Spirit Love Us
We feel like cannon balls free-flying
a cognizant lump of life, whatever that means
We can dream, but only because we carry
thoughts of the generations before us
we see the world as it was,
and create it only in past lives
We are all the wives of a better man
the sons of a lesser love
the pretense of that race we strive to become.
Here, let us stand, because we cannot hear
the cries of those great creators in our veins
And the only way we have learned to exist
Is to fall constantly through the depth of space
leaning ever slightly to the right, then the future,
then the left
And when we are gone, sound will come heavy
like the cleansing wash of fallout
drenching the earth, the sky and everything we knew
Truth will burn brighter without us because
we inhibit with good intentions.