bill kacir

There is a voice that stirs through the stones. It shall break them.
There is a voice that pulses through the skin. It shall erupt.
There is a voice that teaches the children. It shall corrupt them.
There is a voice that fuels the machines. It shall never sate them.
There is a voice that sculpts man and woman. It is precise.
There is a voice that is the foundation. It overflows.
There is a voice that is the deserts and the oceans. It is in balance.
There is a voice that we cannot hear. It is the wilderness.
There is a voice that will hold my palm out. The guillotine is falling.
There is a voice that coerces the nations. It is greed.
There is a voice that shapes water into clouds. It will provide.
There is a voice that is as silent as a star. It is lonely.
There is a voice that time cannot ruin. It is seen in rebirth.
There is a voice that gives and a voice that takes away. It is justice.
There is a voice that was the beginning. Before it there was nothing.
There is a voice that understands sorrow. It is silence.
There is a voice that will not be enslaved. It is too pure to hold.
There is a voice we cannot taste. It is the wilderness.
There is a voice that sometimes whispers. Only those listening can hear.
There is a voice that crashes the waves and pulls them back in. It is the ocean.
There is a voice that is permanent wonder. It shall be stupefied.
There is a voice that radiates warmth. It is the warmth.
There is a voice that enshrouds darkness. It is like a mirror.
—  Bill Kacir | The Voice of the Wilderness
‘It doesn’t grow any easier does it?’ He said. He smelled of amber and petrol. His presence is one of practicality and necessity and I have missed it dearly.
‘Of course it does.’
‘How?’
‘The same way we always forget that our lives aren’t forever.’
‘Time.’
‘No. Human indifference to it.’
—  Bill Kacir