Poetry – Whispers in the Wind

Whispers in the Wind

Every last word spoken echoes,

Through eternity,

For as long as atoms touch.

Every murmur of love;

Every bellow of rage;

In every language;

Every first cry and last sigh;

                A faint vibration on the breeze,

Echoing down the ages –

                The words of ghosts

                                Whisper in our ears.

Opher – 20.4.2020

Sound is a vibration. It passes through matter from atom to atom, jiggling them as it passes. As it moves out from its source it becomes more and more dispersed and weaker. But does it ever fade away altogether?

I like to think not.

I like to think that every sound that has ever been made is creating a slight reverberation through the fabric of this planet. It never dies.

Every conversation, first and last breath, is recorded in sound, every whisper, every cry – the murmurs of lovers, the exultation of ecstasy. It travels on and on forever.

We are surrounded with the subliminal conversations of the whole of history. We vibrate with it. We add to it. It adds to us!

The whisper of ghosts is jiggling our bones.

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