Echoes are a wondrous thing.
And your voice rushes out into space
And instead of fading,
Dissipating into nothingness,
Dropping off into a vast void,
A bottomless canyon,
An infinite, endless expanding universe,
Your voice comes back to you.
Almost a surprise
Your mouth still open, your lips apart
A look of awe and wonder, a wisp of a smile, eyes wide
Questioning, “is that me?” , “Is that my voice?”
The sound slightly altered but
You hear it.
It reverberates and surrounds you like a hug.
Acknowledge, validate your existence,
Assert you are not in a vacuum,
Prove that you are solid matter,
More than a whispy cloud that vanishes from the heat of the sun.
They touch your skin
A hand on your shoulder, your cheek, your back, on top of YOUR hand.
Echoes are a wondrous thing
When they come back to you
And you don’t feel so alone.