Buried Within

Who is to say what can be said,
If the dung itself will speak?
The lost would find new strength,
As the dove will transform to raven. 
She returns with a branch of peace, 
To one profoundly forgiven. 

Cast not a slur on life itself,
By passing dishonest measure.
The grains pour into the living heap, 
And empty on vacant hearts.
The last breath left to breathe,
To fall upon the fallen stars.

Still, who can say what to say,
Too many words left unsaid?
Lost in time in vanished space,
There remains one risk to ask.
Given moments in time to waste,
To sleep and ponder the rest.

Live not for self nor die to love,
For every tide pulls away.
Every song left unsung to sing,
A single note would resound.
Echo of valiant voices ring,
Fade as mist upon the shroud.

All these words what is meant,
No rhythm or rhyme of thought?
But only a passing orchestral song,
Hidden meanings upon the shrine.
Truth buried within the throng
Alone in heaven to search to find.