|Part of the project ECHO-a sorta saga|
It’s all too common that triumphs in life are overshadowed by losses:
of innocence, of freedom, of drive, of purpose.
Who survives intact, without ere a backward glance?
While we move steadily forward
into surface talks, that reveal nothing;
painful truths must be faced or else.
Else all that is good, all that is fine,
all that is yours, all that is mine
slowly fades away.
It fades into an abyss of unspoken words,
Silent laments for that which we lost,
When those bad things happened to good people.