Silence would like a word

 Inside you is a silence that would like 

to have a word — it cannot speak, of course,

But swells into your darkness when the words 

Reflect back darkness, and the strike

Upon the heart arrives, my friend, you hear?

The empty bell, that rings without a sound

Omenomics

 Omenomics: I will sell you the future 

If you believe me enough

And I will point to things

Birds

Stones

The way your dreams burn you clean

Until you wake up covered in sweat

Heart beating

And I will sell you back your own anger

I will be the mirror by which you flex

And I will point to how the movement

Of stars and gravity paint your muscles

No one likes to dream alone

And they are never free

Time Travelers

 We small and lonely creatures

Invent ourselves in memories

And mysteries

Every day we build ourselves a better story

Out of the fading sands

That no one else remembers

Try to make it clay

When birds are gone

 When birds eventually fade into the smog and wildfires

And the absence of insects collapses 

Everything

The trees will must evolve into the niche of birds

Leaves for feathers

Acorn

Eggs