The echo we leave behind
Lives on like background noise
There are those who hear the whisper
Against the silence of centuries
Like a thunderstorm, the crackle of lightning
Illuminating old life
Small details walking through fog
That unexpected footstep behind you
When no one is there
A returning moment we cannot explain
Conversation heard before
That strange Déjà Vu moment
Thoughts you know are not part of your thinking
That is the echo that never dies…
Trapped under the ice
No one can hear you scream.
The sound you made, held
as if between two sheets of glass.
Melt waters carry it far away
To be heard as a distant echo
From a lost time.
A repeating pattern of cosmic design
Nothing is lost, nothing goes to waste
All held within the ticking arms of a clock.
We return, newly made to walk in the
same footsteps we made long ago.
Nothing escapes Earth’s gravity
It merely changes…