I see pieces of you in the whispers
Echoes left behind by the years
You take great care to store them far away, in the corners of your past
The illusion of control eases your mind.
The calm that comes from the sounds of a threatening storm –
I see pieces of me in the whispers
Echoes that surface through the fractures of time
We each carry them with us, wearing them beneath our skin
The illusion of armour eases our minds.
The calm that comes from being in the eye of our storms –
Their echoes eventually carry us away.
