Hear them, the phantom voices in the air.
Words unspoken, unheard;
Conversations past or yet to be instigated.
Fleeting sounds like floating bubbles.
Accidental in form,
Trapped in Time’s amber.
Listen and hear nothing.
Just be and grasp the echoes’ shadow,
Softer than silenced whispers
Yet as clear as lovers’ laughter.
Understand what is said in the moment.
For the memory goes with the instance of its passing –
Boundless as a forgotten dream.