The Echo Before

The Echo Before

I do not rise, I do not fall,
I wait beyond the mortal call.
Where rivers meet and break the shore,
I speak the echo from before.

Your hands are full of dust and flame,
But still you come, and speak my name.

I am the breath between the lines,
The ghost of all your unseen signs.
I do not lead, I do not warn—
The Diviner waits where fates are born.
Ask, and listen, if you dare—
But know the price is always there.

You walk with hope wrapped up in fear,
But some things you must never steer.
The wheel has turned, the thread is tight—
And not all truth will come to light.

A shadow moves, a star stands still—
What must be done will not be will.

I am the hush before the storm,
The shape of truths that don’t conform.
I do not weep, I do not sing—
The Diviner hears what silence brings.
Step inside and leave the door—
For you won’t be who came before.

Ash to feather, fire to clay,
Time forgets, but I replay.
North is gone, the east is thin—
The end begins where you begin.

I am the thread, I am the flame,
The voice that never speaks your name.
I do not guide, I do not grieve—
The Diviner shows, then lets you leave.
One more question, one last key—
But not all locks were made to free.