Voices, singing and drowning, heard and unheard

I'm going to paste below the last two lyrics that I've written. They make an interesting diptych, I think.

I Hear Those Voices that Will not Be Drowned

Depending
Upon where you’re standing,
This is not the mainstream of history.
Still this thread, this theme, this trickle persists,
The spirit finding its way, changefully.

I hear.
It is not my imagination.
Though it may be only in my heart,
The sound is clear.
I hear those voices that will not be drowned.

We Hear No More His Singing

We hear no more his singing.

If we wish to know the stars that lit his dreams
We must scavenge that untimely shore
That threw him, broken, back,
And sift among the bladderwrack
And mermaid’s purse,
And cannot hope for more.

We must read his dream in wreckage
And in seaweed,
As he was forced to read it till he died.

We hear no more his singing.