if the hills sing then the valleys mourn and the clouds weep for their own weaknesses this sort of silence is deafening and when the lips again begin to flutter, and the sounds unite into emotions you become oblivious, deaf to all if the hills sing and the valleys mourn then the smiles we carry become unintentional these sort of smiles are irrelevant but when the dawn smiles down and the eyes unite in an unfettered gaze, we have again lost, defeated by it all When the silence was deafening I became oblivious, and alone