An echo, hidden in the shadow of seeing.
In the glass, a shadow awakens,
no wings, no halo of light, no exalted form.
There lives what is lost—
what was never dared to hold.
No perfection. No absoluteness.
Only the ghost of doubt,
that even eternity could not dispel.
Eyes that saw everything,
yet still failed to grasp themselves.
A presence that never grows old,
but bears the marks of longing through ages.
There also appears the other—
not as it knows itself,
but as it might have been:
unbroken, unarmored,
honest in its flaws.
The weight of light presses heavy,
even the brightest bears its burden.
The soft cut of compassion,
sometimes felt as guilt.
The loneliness of eternal listening,
never once heard.
And yet a quiet yearning lives—
not as certainty,
but as a tremor in the silence,
a whisper:
Even in broken glass, an empty truth hums.
~ In the emptiness of forgotten eyes dwells a truth no one dares to carry ~
