In Ancient Greece they had a nymph called Echo,
Cursed to only repeat
Never to Speak
their mind or her soul.
Our world has Discord. Disharmony. All of these shouts into the void
a vortex of noise
all of it just echoes.
None of it real.
(Cursed to only retweet)
(Never to Speak)
A tiny drop in the ocean of sparks. Tears that flood the world with words until
we lose our voices and they still.
Perhaps one day,
in each unique way,
each of us will join Echo and the quiet wisdom she might instill.
Too quiet, too loud, too humble, too proud.
In a world of voices it’s never enough to be heard.
We are never the first person to say something – rather the third.
Are you okay? (Are you okay?) Are you okay?!
Did you remember to insta your breakfast today (and today? How about today?)
There was a nymph called Echo.
A contraction of noise and silence all at once.
(There was a nymph called Echo.
I was once a nymph called Echo)
Even if I must not speak, and never hear a repeat
Echo is not a curse.
They are free, they are not me.
Echo is there, but the birds are far more clear.
Are they doomed to repeat?
Image courtesy of Josh Rose.