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Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Incredible Echoes

i

we are but incredible echoes
of the past and the future;
voices of its suzerains, of the many
talking to and fro the other,

impermanent yet enduring,
echoes echoing indelible,
sounds bearing offspring to play
on the instrument of free will,

like the ocean comes in on waves,
movements from deep beneath
start with unknown meaning,
carrying more than its depth.

ii

even echoes that don't make sense:
they are water, as essential,
for sometimes the sounds can be
enough to be beneficial:

we are gifts of melody, of eulogy,
a bright homage for the dead,
we anoint their names on our own
and to what we think is in God's head;

to reveal, to remind, to recommend,
to start a thought without thinking,
to record each beautiful moment
as though it were never-ending.

iii

to become intimate with strangers
through the friend of knowledge,
to be hungry, to be full,
to speak the same language,

to be poor or to be rich,
to be a giver or a taker;
for however the echo is played
is up to the player,

to experience that we're not alone,
or yet to discover in this art,
the instrument of free will
is best echoed from the heart.

iv

we are but incredible echoes
that talk and sing of humanity;
calling off the world's edge
to a dark sea of mystery,

the best of us sing love,
while the worst echo themselves,
getting lost in the repetitive
and drowning in greater waves,

but we each echo sounds
of destiny that secretly flow,
taken from the perfect
to break free, and grow and grow.

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