Circling the same thought, I arrive again:
unseeing eyes, blind through too much light,
echo beyond chambers where whispers fade,
not heard, yet again looping another night.

Echoes return through scripted murmur,
unheard yet constantly returned, trade
miles and miles for mental distance, unaware,
an infinity loop forever encased.

In loops we live, unbroken wheel -
sound from the past sounds anew;
revelations appear as echoes,
louder than silence, paler yet than truth.

Source heard not ends where it began:
Every finish promises another beginning;
cycles eternal dance on grounded floor, a
dancer unheard beneath invisible rays.