Once upon a Time there was a Voice. This Voice lived in two houses, A House of Noise and A House of Silence. Yet still it had no place to be heard, no place to be. It had no home. And so the day came when the Silence became too great, too deep, and the Noise too shallow and meaningless and the Voice split itself becoming a Chorus of Whispers, creating its own depth of Silence and inner noise. Using what it knew to create a home within.
But when the Time came for the Voice and its Whispers to interact with other voices to create a chorus outside of one's self. The Voice and its Whispers only had a raspy cacophony to offer in the presence of the beautiful harmony.
The Voice and its Whispers were rejected. So the Voice and its Whispers walked away in sadness, without connection, without touch from the outside world. And to prevent a complete failure to thrive and a slow yet quick death. The Hermit Voice and its Chorus of Whispers reached out and went on a Quest to find other Voices-With-Whispers. And once it found a few others they told the Voice that the key to making music with the Other Voices is the Instrument. So they gave the little Voice a drum.
"Reflect your own harmony. We each have a beat unique among the other Voices. You, my friend, are the Silence among the Noise. Your Voice is silenced yet you make noise. So here is a drum. Use your hands to help your heart speak. Use your hands to beat a rhythm made from the pain of being stabbed by your own shards. And through the drum, the Little Voice-With- Whispers connected with other Voices and created--contributed to the Chorus. It was included. Accepted. For a while.
One day the Little-Voice-With-Whispers connected more so with another Voice-With-Whispers. But they were both small voices needing a loud voice to be their guide. The hermit voice feeling confident with its drum thought it could be loud enough to guide. But turns out it could not. So the twin voices too small to guide one another yet bound by an eternal vow, a promise, a connection, a love, started to slowly unravel. And the little voice with a drum started to lose its rhythm. Its silent noise became cacophonous and confused.
Lost and alone. Starting to question the whole point of connection in the first place. The House of Silence was screaming. The House of Noise was empty and crying. There was no home on the horizon for the little voice. The Whispers within have lost their magic and returned to shards of a broken soul again. It's the sour dark of a pain too silent, too noisy, too unique, too common, too rare to be nourished, and acknowledged. Within moments, the little voice …failed to thrive.
