I’ve become more keenly aware
Of my present footsteps these days
The sound they make in transition
And even their ephemeral echoes
Which to me, speaks in multivolume
Randomly I ask those odd questions
To where do echoes flee to and land?
Is it always to some familiar place?
What happens after they arrive there?
Might it be where unheard whispers go?
And if so, do echoes and whispers die?
Or might they remain adrift- waiting?
Perhaps to return to origins of silence?
For me, our life is…a walk over thin ice
Poet of the Light © 2021