It is silent but speaks volume.

It is inanimate but it captures life.

In life, time flies.

In art, life revives.

We flip through pages with little in mind.

The words pass right through us as though we were blind.

We caress dollar bills with precise and scurry and squeal like mice when an opportunity for some cash arise.

Our morals have changed and the God on the feathered serpent now hold the reins.

And though they are not all evil, many are to blame.

It is silent but its wisdom echo among our brains.

It is inanimate but a presence in our hearts remain.

In life, nothing seems to ever change.

In art, a world without borders is what we exclaim.

We caress pages with our eyes opened wide.

The words deeply treasured as though found in a crystallized mine.

We flip through dollar bills and see the hidden blood between its lines and cringe with every truth we keep in mind.

Our morals have changed and the serpent's reigns begin to tear.

And though we are not all loud spoken, we all have a story to share.