There's a sharp frosty switchback that never sees the sun in winter
  skies of blue. The frost heave cut-bank rocks tumble down to the
side of the road,  in the ice shard mottled ditch lay frozen stiff

Tall Sitka spruce marbled gray shadows mat the sparsely traveled
  corridor, paved with potholes, where the roads have no names
Sometimes listening quietly to the bare stillness, there are
  rhetorical questions heard in the silent reverie's say:

                        "Have you ever been afraid?"

The tree-line gaps above the jagged gray stone ravine, disappearing
  down the rugged mountain shade, falling into the pillow-top fog bank blanketing the canyon's murmurs below — headed towards the ocean

Crystalline spring waters gurgle up roadside — out of nowhere,
  where tired boots stand in reverent contemplation as it all sings out  harmoniously to the trees in the key of silence;   it was there
  in a gust of restless forbearance heard the frozen peacefulness  say:

                         "Have you ever felt alone?"

Gathering a deep breath of marbled gray shadows, silence bears
  a loud holler's scorn — echoing back and forth down canyon walls,
with the spirit of a voice a multitude strong,  evanescent
                             as winter's outgoing tide.


                      January 2019 — Jesse Stillwater

Dare I
disturb
the Chasm’s part
that mirrors,
echoes,
in the dark?

It takes
the words
I know so well
and binds them,
flips them,
in its spell.

No more
know I
what they should mean,
my words
in Chasms
are unseen.

And when
my words
I cannot find,
the Chasm
echoes,
takes my mind.

I’ve been hearing echoes in my head,
I walked and followed the trace,
Listening to them, the whispers said,
“I need you here... right now.”
They led me to a door, it opened.
I went in and there I sat.
They told me stories that were familiar.
Suddenly, the more I hear, the more I feel.
An emotion I can never conceal,
I finally remembered and shed a tear.
They waited me to say a word until I asked,
“Is he still there... still caring?”
Speaking like I had someone beside,
I woke up in my day dream.
I asked the girls,
“Oh, the voices, voices, and whispers
Did you hear them anywhere?”
They shook their heads in a silent no.
Confusion was what their faces show.
I finally recognized,
They’re the voices living in my mind.
At last I realized,
It was merely me.

I took a walk down memory lane
Through moments of  happiness, fear and pain -
To look back and see how i've arrived -
Spurs me on with a stronger stride.
I feel that I've owned every mistake -
And healed moments where my heart would ache,
To view life through the objective lens -
Pulls me through days where it feels like the end
Echoes of the past follow me through life
To remind me of much kinder times.

I have this announcer
In my head
Speaking through a mic
broadcasting my sensational endeavor
I decided to do that year
only to follow up half way
Because of manic episodes
Composed of unorganized perfection
And useless, jumbled words
That often didn’t make sense
But the announcer never failed
Using their echoing voice
Overpowering all other thoughts
Would debut some idea
Unfinished
Making me feel
infinite

Echoes are for the lonely.
It convey their hearts back to them
It assures them they aren't alone
It teaches them to love themselves
Echoes are for the lonely
It's for those who have no one but themselves.

Lost
In this moment
Where our lips touch
And the world falls away
Terrified
For the seconds
Where this ends
And we return
To the world
Released
From this spell
Cast over us
In those minutes of ardor
Consumed by each other
Blinded by the light we create
Ignorant to the circumstances
Uncaring of the consequence
Then the sun rises
And we find ourselves
Alone
Once again
Echoes of the night before
Haunting us
Creating an intense desire
Feeling wicked