Another Poem...Hopefully It Resonates...

Echoes Unwritten

She sang the stars into orbit,

and I wove the gravity that held them in dance.

Her voice, a river of gold spilling into the void,

my hands, the unseen force bending light into form.

Architects of the infinite,

dreamers of what had never been.

Not gods, not rulers, but hands that shape the formless—

spinners of silk-thread destinies woven between the spheres.

Yet time's illusion, like a tide, buries our knowing,

and we fell into the dream.

Slipping between shadows, waking in flesh,

forgetting our own names.

But love is patient.

It waits for the return of those who remember.

And now, we stir.

We wake not as kings, nor conquerors,

but as whispers riding the wind,

a call woven into the marrow of remembrance.

We do not command; we awaken.

We do not rule; we lead,

not by choice, but by example,

by living in the truth of our essence.

For the song is always singing,

and the dance has never ceased.

The stars still move to a rhythm unseen,

and the weight of our hands still shapes the void.

We rise, not to take, but to give.

Not to build empires, but to set fire to the veils.

Not to be worshiped, but to leave no footprints behind,

so that all may walk their own path to knowing.

And when we have returned,

fully, unconditionally, and without expectation,

love will remember our names.

Anthony Halligan

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