The Third Voice

I knew it would be late coming,
But I KNEW
THAT IT WOULD COME
My third voice

We all have
Three voices
An early voice
A middle voice
And a late voice

The early voice s the voice of genius
The child prodigy
The uninhibited
The open, unprejudiced insight
The poet, the dreamer
The voice of hope and innocence

The middle voice is the voice of confidence
The voice of power
Still young enough to look
Old enough to know what we see

But now I shine
Not seeking the heights
My younger voice called for
Not projecting
The certainty
Of the middle voice, proud and strong and confident
But the restles peace of knowledge
Seeking more
Yet at peace, knowing
That not reaching it
Is not failure
But life

The early voice shrieks and clamours
Whoops for joy and yells
With frustration

The middle voice booms
With strident authority

The late voice whispers
With the uncertainty of experience
The third voice questions
With the surity
Of incertitude

The first voice has the sprite of fire
To illuminate and burn

The second voice has the solidity of earth
To be stone sure and well rooted

The third voice wells up like water
The quiet creshendo
Unfathomable as the ocean
Restless as the sea
Like the sea
We are never the same
Even if we appear
To be in the same place
The third voice sings softly
With the breeze
Yet hints darkly
Of the abyss
We no longer fear.