I see open eyes and closed doors
as I see faces pass in the crowd,
all those secrets within,
all those wishes and dreams,
the dark sadness so often seen.
What would they say
if I asked them to stay
and give all their secrets away?
Would they lie or tell me the truth?
Do we sing from one page?
Unfulfilled?
Whatever their stage,
whatever their race,
whatever the date of their birth,
are their feelings so different from mine?
And where is god in all this?
Does god even exist?
In our breath, in water, in fire?
We all die, but are we divine?
What I hear is one voice and one choir.