The Echo

I’m a trombulated echo in the eternity of your soul. How I got there, only you know. I venture I might have slipped between your mind and your soul one dark night, when the pitter-patter of rain was on the roof, and a distant church bell called plaintively from afar insisting that you return to God. Do you remember any of that?

Well never mind, hither into the silver-coated reaches of the soul, and I will willingly show you how eternity has held you in its arms as long as anyone can remember. Yes, it held you while you cried out in protest. It held you through your flood of tears. It was there to listen to your antagonisms and silent resentments. It watched as you raged against God and others.

It held you because, I’ll be bold enough to say, it loved you a lot more than you ever loved yourself.

P.S. I didn’t write this piece about the echo, it was given to me from the inner worlds in a vision that had sound with it.

© Stuart Wilde
www.stuartwilde.com