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where echoes go to rest
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commentary
Bindings
Some bindings creak when opened,
as if they’ve been holding their breath for years.
Others part without sound,
trusting you to notice the loosened thread at the seam.
White Space
Between the paragraphs,
there’s a pause long enough to hear the paper think.
It remembers every hand that turned it,
every fingertip that hesitated before the next line.
For the One Who Will Answer
These pages are not finished until you speak them.
Until your voice folds into the ink,
and the ink folds back into you.
Only then will the echoes know where to rest.
.
