Deep beneath the canvas of ordinary life,
there exist traces of voices left to linger -
whispers unfurled in moments ephemeral.
On a quiet morning,
one finds themselves attuned to sounds
that stretch beyond time;
they beckon from the corners of silence.
These remnants, tales of what once was voiced,
float through the hall of past echoes,
like fragile petals lost in a wind of memories.
Nature knows these songs;
her waters, her trees hum the same tune.
Do we anticipate an audience for these echoes?
Or are they meant only for those who stumble unknowingly into their arched metaphorical realms?
Beyond the Murmurs
The Theory of Echoing Spaces