echo

The echo in the garden is not from my voice, so where is it coming from and 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. Knowing a sound that I have not heard before as an echo that surrounds me is what I sense without understanding the significance of my exposure.

The echo in the garden is so soothing and relaxing. It makes me want to bathe myself in it, washing away all my concerns, at least for the moment, 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 that communicates with the untouchable but only when the outsider wants to be touched. Therefore, I submit to the echo in the garden and listen carefully to the vaporous translations.

In the remote past of a half a second ago, the echo in the garden filled me with anxiety of the trepidation of the unknown before soothing and relaxing 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 are closer to the door that is held open by the frost with a bitter bite. However, the galactic vapors have informed me that there are no such creatures as never before and forever.

The garden is as quiet as not an animal stirring, as every being is attentive to the echo in the garden. Every being listening to the touch of understanding, comprehending the sensations of completeness. By the time there comes a time, everything will know that the supernatural means nothing to the colors of the universe and that 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, and the shadows in the forest has a compelling friendliness about them that compliments 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 and live my life within its embrace, and because there is not an always nor a forever, I live. I live as an element of the echo in the garden with the vapors of the Milky Way galaxy educating me.

The Milky Way galaxy educating me about life after life, and the sensibility of placing one foot before and behind the other.