Silent Echos

It begins in the pause,

not in the telling.

A realm of silent echoes—

words half-formed,

voices stilled,

yet lingering,

never fully gone.

In the quiet,

shadows of memory speak.

Absence leans close,

a kind of presence

that waits,

listening.

Each breath—

a syllable unspoken.

Each pause between heartbeats—

a language

the lost still speak.

Their stories,

their laughter,

their grief and wisdom—

they live in us,

half-heard,

half-remembered,

shaping the sound

of our own voices.

This silence—

not empty,

but full,

resonant,

still becoming.