Whispers of Truth exist softly within the Screaming of Lies, like the breathy silence in a wall of musical sound. Guitars and Pianos colliding sonically in a confined space, and yet, a small, seductive silence spans between the pitch of instruments and lifts up the relationship of the two as one.
Music.
Whispers of Truth exist softly within the Screaming of Lies, like the strained silence in a barrage of angry advocacy. Fact versus Fact arena themselves, gladiatorially armed with the personal knowledge of good and evil. Blood dripping from their lips like the juice from a freshly plucked and bitten fruit, and yet, a small hint of peace, a breath between the self-righteous bursts of vitriol illuminates the darkness.
This peace is unseen amongst the seen.
This peace in unheard amongst the sound.
This peace is lifted up and crucified within self-righteousness.
Jesus.
Fictive Whispers 