Echo

What about Echo,
How she pined,
How she felt her love
To the core
But remained alone?

That's how it goes sometimes.

There is no return,
But you love.
You give.
You have to.
You feel it.

And the breeze lifts,
And it lifts Echo,
And the breeze scatters her
Hither and yon
And she really is no more.

What happens
After all that
Time of being sure
Of nothing,
And coming in to winter?

Echo is gone,
And it's all about Narcissus:
His return marks
The return to life.

And Echo?
She loves.
That is everything.

And good-bye to her
Who once traded in hope.

Forget hope.
Right now is beautiful.
It is enough.
So be it.
And so it goes.

Find your gospel;
Preach it.

Better than that, though,
Do this:
Prefer silence and abide by it.

Comments

  1. Hi sandy,
    I understand this words. They touch deep.
    There is no Echo.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Dear Sandy; You are a true, mature poet. I only know a tiny bit of all you have done, taught, and suffered in your times, but have always had a powerful conviction that you are a special person. This poetry you are producing now is proof that I was right all along. To finally NOT despair, but to live the feeling and numbness and beauty, is the sign of a great soul, my sister.
    Fondly, cloudi
    "Forget hope.
    Right now is beautiful.
    It is enough.
    So be it.
    And so it goes.

    Find your gospel;
    Preach it.

    Better than that, though,
    Do this:
    Prefer silence and abide by it."

    ReplyDelete

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