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.
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