of singing, musing, and speaking

what happens to song
when the world sings along?
does it ring out
or fade out
or simply out?

what happens to muse
when it spreads to the roots?
does it matter
or patter
or become flatter?

what happens when I,
try as I try,
cannot complete
what I must speak?

do the words die within?
or without?
or about?

and if they are out,
do they matter
or patter?

give me my speech,
then I will reach
and grasp onto it,
the words that will fit.

the funerals of words
pass quickly, unheard.
a somber affair,
if one would care.

so let the speech,
the song,
the muse,
be given to the world,
in throng,
and queues.

speak, and let your words be known.
sing, and let your wounds be shown.
muse, and let your thoughts be sown.