Silent echoes pierce my mind;
As logic spins out of control and a blinding light illuminates;
The very vortex of most gathered conceptualities.
But I know one must not dally for long;
For it may disrupt continuance.
Perhaps like an atom that has mutated;
Both negative and positive; nuclear in fashion;
It dictates urgency for;
To terry too long could cause fusion and;
Thus desired direction becomes the whim of fate.
But these are only ramblings for;
There are no real answers;
There’s only the search for the way out;
Because this is only a piece in a puzzle depicting a vastness;
Too far beyond the reach of our current conceptions
And the echoes—it is the sound of we the repeaters;
Waiting for our time when choice might return.