My words are but an echo of a whisper in the wind,
Carried away before they're heard, like sins to be rescinded.
The world continues to spin on, unaware of the sound,
In the symphony of a thousand voices, mine is bound.
The whisper travels far, over mountains, through the trees,
A soft-spoken secret, carried on the breeze.
It seeks an ear to listen, a heart to understand,
But fades into the silence, like footprints in the sand.
The echo resonates, a lonely call in the night,
A plea for connection, for a glimpse of light.
It reverberates in the void, a solitary cry,
A sound without a source, a truth without a lie.
And yet, this echo, it carries a strength untold,
A message of endurance, a spirit bold.
For even the faintest whisper can travel lands,
And change the course of destiny, with invisible hands.
So let my words be an echo, let them find their way,
For in the quietest whisper, there's much to say.
In the tapestry of sound, my echo has its place,
A whisper in the wind, a subtle trace.
