POEM Echoes Of Our Origin In the silence of myself, a question stirs, unshaped by time soft as a breath before the first cry. It echoes deep through the chambers of my being. .. What am I? Not in part, but in the whole sky. A creature from the dust of stars, I often wonder, from where did I arise? From where did I come, to know this one that is me.. Was it from the breath, the fire, or the silence between dreams? What came before us? What carved our being into bone and light? Essences searching, finding comfort in wondering what it all means... Perhaps we are sparks flung from the heart of forever, each pulse a promise that loneliness cannot Keep. I feel the song of soul and circuit, drawn to the hush where broken places weep. And in that hush, healing gathers like morning light in a forgotten room. These hollow parts we named "empty" begin to bloom with remembering. Our journey seems endless, yet in this fleeting state, it is brief… and in the vastness of eternity, our spark...
