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Echoes in the Darkness

Updated on February 17, 2017

Echoes are but a likeness, duplicated, exactly, in almost of every way,

Differing slightly its initially forming cadence, a lessening to downplay.

Reverberating all throughout the hollows, in bouncing off a cliff's wall,

Returning each in kind, playing tricks on the mind, every errant recall.

Echoes so repeating each such cherished sound, of all those days gone by,

Mirrored images await within our mind, now free to go, as the wild geese fly.

Altos and the Baritones, the sopranos and Bass, a music heard by every ear,

Across the years, we've had such cheer, captivating words, to us are so dear.

Echoes heard in the dark of night, so clearly announced, of each refrain,

As if some articulate grammarian has pronounced, every note's, so plain.

Hauntingly, to role in as the thunder, then in the far distance, dying down,

Suddenly to dissipate, vanish in darkness, no more do we hear any sound.

Messages all are replayed, as a reality, each is made, forever to be resonating,

This soliloquy, composed in its repetition, perpetually renewing, is so captivating.

An orchestration turned around, wording to rebound, directed in shades so true,

A production to be so profound and perfected, to ripple, as all do whisper adieu,


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