Whispers

i'm getting tired of the whisper
i ache to see the rocks split
the mountains move
to hear the horn sound
and the thunder roar

it's so quiet now
and sometimes it feels useless
like i'm talking to myself in an empty building
with echoes dogging my heels

or i'm writing letters to no one
paying for the stamps with the last of my quarters
and mailing them to nowhere

and yet, sometimes
when i least expect it
the whisper reaches my ears
and the apathy fades
slightly

it's still not what i want
but, now, i wonder
would i know what i want
if he gave it to me

or would i complain that he's too bland and miss what he's trying to say?