All These Echoes..

All these echoes are my mind--Thoughts thinking, thinking selves, folded layer upon layer, then set aside, laid to rest long enough think again.

What is two times two times two, day after day until we've forgotten what first multiplied? We find ourselves still, folding new experience between layers of old.

Early thoughts find the mind a quiet landscape, homelike to all who visit.

Midday seems hostile when unfamiliar company is suddenly dismissed and often familiar treated harshly.

Yet, the players rarely die but rest long enough to loom larger than today.

Find some small part to love enough to use within the home. Lives thus dispersed are allies stonger than they once seemed.

Mike Akana 
April 1998


all these echoes