Echoes of a Distant Heart

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 Sometimes I wonder, with a heavy sigh,

How your heart-so distant, so cold-

Can ignore the fire burning in my chest,

A treasure worth more than gold.


When quiet hours find me alone,

Sitting by the still water,

I pick up pebbles scattered by the wind

And toss them at an old rusted roof.

My aim is steady, my effort sincere-

Each throw carries a small hope:

“Maybe one will land just right,

And reach the spirit I long for.”


But when the stone hits and the sound fades,

I wonder if I’m only fooling myself,

If time will prove it all unwise.


Later, out along the road

Where tired travelers pass

And lonely signs mark the distance,

I throw my stones again

With the same intention,

With the same relentless will.

Until at last a dull, hollow sound

Proves a tiny victory.


And when the sun dips low

And shadows stretch across the dust,

I see you in my mind again

And speak the thoughts I carry,

Unfiltered and unrestrained.

For someone who truly loves

Knows that sorrow walks

Closely beside love,

Bound together in a quiet journey,

A whispered dream.


In the dry season of my spirit,

You offer one small drop.

In the silence where I disappear

And answer no call,

Your faint echo still reaches me,

As if some part of you lingers close.

This presence

Gives me breath

And pushes fear away.


Still, my heart aches endlessly,

For no greater love will ever live within it.

And I hold on, again and again,

To the last small edge of kindness

You leave behind-

Sharp, fragile, and precious,

The only sign of what I seek in you.



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