BALLADS POETRY Verses, Hymns and Symphonies


October 23, 2018

(the story of Echo)


I’ve lived in a thousand shadows,

dancing from one darkness to another,

scurrying through the chasms of time

to conceal my white skin from the eyes of death.

With dark eyes, deep and bright as hellfire,

he wanders the deserts of time.

The cold beauty of his face,

alluring his victims to his lips dry.

Underneath the mourning stars, he sits

and kisses the white face of his prey.

He sips the sweetness of his soul

and drinks in deep the draught of life.

Invisible, he walks alongside the living man

and stalks when the night grows deeper.

While men sleep in bliss, unwary of this hidden foe,

he steals their wives and daughters from bed.

Unconquered he roams free the earth,

taking men as his slaves, as time comes.

And all, in the end, are shadows in his gaunt palace

birthing more children on Earth for him to quaff.

But oh! the dreadful things I saw

as I fled to protect my soft skin,

searching the trenches and caverns of Earth,

seeking an asylum from his wanton eyes.

But everywhere I saw my hunter

dancing with living men,

a million faces of death laughing-

one for every man.

Long years I hid and fled,

concealing my wails in valleys dark,

running endlessly to stay right ahead

of death’s cruel, pale chasing claws.

Now a million years have passed

like the dust and lives of men around.

Time, pain and weather have withered my skin,

my soft beauty melting.

I’ve lost my body, lost my bones,

waiting for the end of death’s chase.

Now all I’m left with is stories of memories

and a voice and a wail in their place.

At last, came the wind whispering of solace

offering to hide me in its arms,

and gifted me the kiss of immortality

and an eternal respite from death’s greed.

So years I’ve lived in the depths of stone homes

a voice, with none to visit but the wind,

singing the stories of all that I saw vivid,

of the lives of generations of men.

Of ages of darkness and ages of death

and eras of reawakening and enlightenment,

I sing of, with no one to listen to,

but for my own wails returning from yonder.

Day and night I tell tales to the silence

and the silence repeats my words in my voice,

like thousand shy friends born from invisible shadows,

meekly reflecting my songs in a chorus of dying babble.

But oh!  what songs of wisdom they were!

Of all I saw in my long life – of forgotten dances

from a million years that changed and died

as I shed my youth, still fleeing death’s lusty lips!


(Image Credits: Pinterest)


© 2018 Sahana Narendran Protection Status

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