THE UNHEARD ARE NOT UNWORTHY

THE UNHEARD ARE NOT UNWORTHY

There are voices

that never reach the wire—

no signal carries them,

no screen remembers their shape.

They rise like breath

in the cold morning air,

visible for a moment,

then gone

without witness.

But tell me—

did the wind not feel them?

Did the sky not hold them

for that brief eternity?

The world counts sound

only when it echoes,

measures worth

by how far it travels.

But there are words

that fall straight to the ground

like seeds—

unapplauded,

unrecorded,

alive.

The unheard

are not empty.

They are not less.

They are not waiting

to become real.

They are the quiet foundation

beneath the shouting surface,

the hidden roots

that hold the forest upright

while no one looks below.

A man speaks to himself

on a sidewalk at dusk.

A woman hums

to keep her soul from breaking.

A prayer is whispered

where no one gathers to agree.

Nothing trends.

Nothing spreads.

Nothing returns

to say it mattered.

And yet—

the earth receives it all.

The moment keeps it.

Reality does not discard

what the network forgets.

Listen closely—

not to the noise,

but beneath it.

There is a deeper chorus

without audience,

without amplification,

without end.

And in that quiet,

where no signal reaches,

every voice

is still

heard.

Pastor Steven G. Lee 

Street GMC Corps

April 28, 2026