Wishes echo down the walls of a well
for people who believe something will hear
what they won't say,
the way we don't tell anyone
but the air we expel to blow candles out
what we desire most.
It’s an attempt to get it off our chest.
Begging whatever created the ability for us to think
and feel
to say something back to us.
Explain anything to us.
Echoes are more than positioning objects
to trigger previous conversations.
You’d hear them if you gave yourself the space to.
Your heart is not made of flesh.
It is made of feathers and twigs.
I could fill you seven hundred years.
There is nothing more I know,
nothing more I needed.