The Echo

Hooked into our personal soundtracks,

with extra choreography by the minute,

traced about the contours of the waves,

forming upon the souls of our times.

Somewhere, off in the distance

and out of night vision scopes,

rebounding amongst the planets,

and comets that define our lives.

Thundering back from the past,

not undisturbed from the invitation,

things just seem to fall into place,

as we choose to swagger and pace.

So it seems to be perfect by

comparison, as if something was planned,

from the ancient moments of our

beginnings as the ones who are here now.

Could this be the answer,

we all yearn for,

that is never heard or

seen.

Is this the best that we can

hope for.

Hoping for some new diversion,

we can all benefit from our

mistakes of judgment,

that come crashing through the mist.

Can you hear the sound,

of the world that

went off into the night,

without so much as good-bye.

Wouldn't it be grand,

if for just one moment,

the sound would come,

back and caress our lives.