Settling...

We see ourselves alone here but all together we sing.
Songs written by those without tongues.
Those with the largest of lungs and nothing to do but breathe.
Nothing to do but watch the world burn.
Nothing to speak.
Bits of thoughts and pieces of dreams.
The scenery screams in colors and beings.
Bleeding ink of former word.
Sentences formed by whispers heard.
Safe and sound in silence found by blind eyes and hands without fingers.