Echoes are proof of all that exists in the realm of possibility,

  They are also proof of how you process reality,

  They are proof of an event's inevitably,

  People can only process so much,

  On this peak I stand, it’s the only thing my attention is focusing on, alas, I'm a poet, I'm always searching for a song,

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  For in these echoes is the voice of god,

  It was never I who filled a cup,

  It was never I who decides what happens after eternities,

  It was not I who marked the truth,

  Though it bit into my skin and left me bleeding,

  It was not I who decided these dreams must be lived through,

  It is not I who marks your grades after the test on Friday,

  It is not I, the blacksmith hammering into you,

  Molding and shaping you, as eternities echo, as the heavens fill your cup,

  No, it was never I, so where does that leave us,

  So much has happened,

  But I've learned one thing,

  When the heavens pull strings,

  Do your best to be obedient,

  For in these pulls,

  The echo of the eternal song,

  The echo of your success,

  The echo of your salvation…