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