Echoes From the Past.

From the walls the voices clamor, Chasing me away from my solace and contentment, These laughing phantoms of dreams almost forgotten, Reminding me of almost and could have been, Showing me places I can’t quite remember, Of faces that I think I just might make out, Voices drifting just beyond my strained hearing, Vaguely familiar figures perched about, Despairing moments a cacophony of emotional confusion, Questioning the validity of its very existence, Its eluding creation pulls at my sanity, Amplified only by the constant of time passing, I hear each note hollered out in darkly, Every hill climbed each lookout a kaleidoscope, Meshing and weaving this tapestry of mixing color, Like the boots of war tamping through a swath of mud, It is I…the scattered and broken pieces strewn about, The torn and frayed edges of unwoven thread, From every corner of every wall the blaring of voices pierces, Bringing me down bringing me home…bringing me home.