Echo

There will come a time
When we are silenced.

Others will speak for us
Or perhaps Not.

Until that time,
We will not permit the winds of time
To sweep our voices past the rivers
And over the mountains
Into the abyss.

No. The river's current will take our voices through the streams, tributaries, and Oceans
They will heed our call.

Our voices will rocket up the mountaintops,
Spreading like points of light from a star to those below who will listen.

Someday, our voices will be quieted.

But for others, the mountains and waters will remain.