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Your name. It echos.

Listfully whispering all that I want to hear.
In an echo of things I should have not opened to.
Such fears and thoughts always come to mind.
And nothing would convince me otherwise.

Your name. It whispers.

Why it all happens? I do not know myself.
Ever the mystery we are bound to.
In life or other wordly presence we are bound to.
Rememberance always stays locked in soul.

Your name. It sings.

But only within my mind.
Until I can hear once more from the outside.
The eyes will watch ever so closely.
Without fail.

Your name. It beckons.