Whispers

Old souls beckon, 
their whispers grow louder.
We only look forward, 
from the past we cower.

Afraid to remember 
what we've forgot,
we journey on,
wishing the memory 
to vanish and rot.

Yet try as we might 
we cannot escape.
Our past is but a loop 
on an endless tape.

Like children 
we discover
something new,
yet we've been there before;
a truth recognized
by only a few.

The rest plunge their fingers
deep in their ears,
drowning out the whispers
from immortal peers.

Humans advance, 
technology exists,
but character and dignity 
will always persist.

Unchanging and real,
our ancestor's ordeal
to endlessly whisper,
a truth we conceal.