The Echo

Summary

The Echo invites you into a garden of sound and spirit—poetic meditations on consciousness, tranquility, and cosmic reflection at dreamwhack.

The echo in the garden is not from my voice. So, where is it coming from? Who is producing it? It is a sound that I have not heard before. Yet, it is so familiar that I feel as if I intimately know it. I know a sound that I have not heard before. It surrounds me like an echo. I sense it without understanding the significance of my exposure.

The echo in the garden is so soothing and relaxing. I want to bathe myself in it. It washes away all my concerns. This feeling lasts at least for the moment. It stays with me at least for the day. I look but I do not see what my ears perceive. The echo in the garden is closer than touching me. The echo in the garden is an intricate part of me. The best part of me that I do not see. Revealing the hidden that I push away from myself and the shadows that creeps behind me.

Leaves are fluttering in the trees being moved by the echo in the garden that is stirring the air. Air that is as clean and as fresh as a star bursting into light nourishing the orbs revolving around it. The echo in the garden speaks to me in a language that can only be translated by the galactic vapors.

Every galaxy has its own ubiquitous vapors. These vapors communicate with the untouchable. This happens only when the outsider wants to be touched. So, I yield to the echo in the garden and listen carefully to the vaporous translations.

The echo in the garden filled me with anxiety. It echoed from the remote past of a half a second ago. I felt the trepidation of the unknown. Then, it soothed and relaxed me as never before. The unknown is still unspecified and mysterious, but the cuddling by the echo in the garden has made me fearless. Fearless of things to come and things that can not be undone.

As time ravages the mind, the feet inch closer to the door. This door is held open by the frost with a bitter bite. Nevertheless, the galactic vapors have informed me that there are no such creatures as never before and forever.

The garden is quiet. Not an animal is stirring. Every being is attentive to the echo in the garden. Every being listening to the touch of understanding, comprehending the sensations of completeness. Eventually, everything will know that the supernatural means nothing to the colors of the universe. The echo in the garden is as normal as a bump in the dark.

The garden is as serene as a hiccup without a burp. The shadows in the forest have a compelling friendliness. They compliment the echo.

One ecstasy at a time so as not to avalanche the mind with an overabundance of cosmic vapors. Uncontrolled thoughts and sensations that falls onto a fast-moving lizard and taken to a place where dreams can’t escape. Not of my voice is the echo in the garden and it comes from everywhere and from everything.

I want to coat my very essence with the echo in the garden. I live my life within its embrace. Because there is not an always nor a forever, I live. I exist as part of the echo in the garden. The vapors of the Milky Way galaxy educate me.

The Milky Way galaxy educates me about life after life. It teaches the sensibility of placing one foot before and behind the other.