To Speak or to Echo


To speak, or not to speak, that is the dilemma:
Whether there is a choice for a nail to bear
The constant stings and hits of the hammer
Or to sail away from the current disarrays
And by going, disremeber them. To breathe- to live
Once more; and by a breath we embrace
A dream of becoming anything we wish to be
To live, perhaps to love- ay, there’s the mystery:
For in the earthly landscape what bonds may last,
Once we distrust, and nonchalantly move fast
To stitch the fissures of the furrowed dreams
Alas! Who would endure the executioner's whip
When the lilies and daisies blossom in the breeze
Of the green gardens replete with roses and trees
To scream or to echo, that is the ultimate impasse:
Whether it is reasonable for a soul to choose
The selfsame destiny of the inert, sightless mass
Or to pause and remember the noble heroes
And by thinking, dignify them. To dream- to hope
Once more; and by a scarred dream we mature
And concoct the ingredients of the summers-to-be
To live, perhaps to flutter- ay, there’s the reverie:
Whether to remain safe in a motionless journey
Or to cruise blissfully in water-logged ships
To be a voice or an echo, a player or a bystander
That has always been and will always be the story.

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