missing/ inaction

Just when Tuesdays and Fridays offer brief reprieves to the dreary soul,
they have to disappear in a timely yet untimely manner.
And so it is, the story goes,
that a single verse may contribute hope,
that a single principle may change a perspective,
that a single doctrine may rescue a life.
A latent voice that cries for change,
a shifting voice that bears confusion,
and a gentle voice that is asking for help.
Who dictates the senses? Who is turning the tides?
The pain of self censorship destroys the being;
the dreary self lives on
in a zen like story that creates more melancholy than salvation.
It is time to save a soul.