Echo

For the echo; Who whispers in the wind, And accompanies my soul during dreams. The prophet; Whose message is never clear. As if a translucent melody, For which its rhythm; I have yet to follow or solve. I know only of tales, Supplied by faithful guidance; An ideology substance, Speaking for my future presence. If only a bird on a branch would accept an absence of flight, Merely to sing its songs in my very language, Or a fish would forever close its gills, Just to bestow myself a knowledge out of reach. If only the next dog's bark made more sense than this confusing echo, I would feel at ease to whisper back through the wind.