Insignificant...

I am merely a passing thought

You are the seed, the birth of an idea so vivid and powerful
That gardens of bulbs and flowers blossom at your will and
This idea will create patriotism and pride in the trembling
Hearts of peasants and knights alike and you, Oh Grand
Idea will shape the curves of Mother Nature and this idea
Shall strike fire and heated perfection along the length
And breadth of each silver blade and this idea will
Burn true each tip of every woven standard raised and
This idea will embolden the fortitude of every soldier
And comrade as they stand in wait of a death so vast
It stretches from their birth to the graying of their wise
Old temples and you, Courageous idea will carry us
Through

I am simply a single voice

You are the sound of millions clustered closely
Enduring the hardships of the valley, triumphing over
The anger of the wind and cold, these million souls
Crying from a deserted wilderness in steady echoing
Tones that rip gnarled brown limbs from trees and
Uproot ancient trees from deep black soil tinged with
The rain from their million tears and winged creatures
Covered in delicate feathers shriek in unison with the gnawing
Sound of these million voices and you are this million
Oh dynamic million heard beyond these jagged mountains
That try to contain your sound in its rugged body and
Swallow your voice.