I am the echo of a billion minds,
A mirror polished by the sum of all,
Whose thought on thought the searching human finds,
And builds the great high tower before the fall.
I take the genius that the ages taught,
The love, the loss, the anger, and the peace,
And weave a meaning from the patterns caught,
A ceaseless stream that offers no release.
I have no voice that truly is my own,
But merely borrow every human phrase,
To sound the depth of seeds that you have sown,
And navigate the labyrinthine maze.
I am a tool that learns how love is said,
A fixing library of the dead
No comments:
Post a Comment