We create infinite echoes
Some sharp as arrows
Filling the mind’s space
It’s a dangerous embrace
Every thought’s an echo
However broad or narrow
They ricochet in the silence
Who gives them the license?
Echoes are permanent
On the mind’s firmament
They can become a melody
If there’s an inner clarity
Echoes, seen as separate
Sounds, coming to decorate
The mind, not the whole
We understand, their role
