Can you remember back to a time
Before everything became the way it is now?
Before the petals withered and fell;
Before the stem grew tall and moist;
Before the seed germinated and fell;
Before the soil engulfed us in darkness;
Before the voice now anonymous said to us
“Follow me, I know the way to happiness.”
It was a lonely time filled with sorrow in vast empty chambers, remember?
We heard whispers that echoed for an eternity,
can you still hear it?
You can’t go back. Can you go back?
Do a one eighty. Or is it a three sixty? Or seven twenty?
It can’t be any one of these doors.
When you leave the timeless chamber, it is gone from you forever.
But the echo keeps echoing the same song even if you don’t hear it, remember?
If you follow its faint washed out ring where will you go?
You can’t hear?
Quieter. Quieter still. So quiet
that you hear it again.
Step lightly. Lighter than a ninja. Listen. Observe. The walls are not walls.
The paths lead back into themselves. The light illuminates a world that does not exist.
Only the echoes, if you can hear are real.
Is real. Is not real.
What is not real?
It doesn’t matter just go.
It’s only an adventure after all.
It’s only a poem after all.
It’s only a song after all.
It’s only my life, after all.
Sorry. I’m tired of following you around.