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A recorded reading of “Amalgam of Echoes”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
I slip through my own seams, pouring into myself, flesh folding into flesh until the I becomes the We — a slow-bloom sculpture of intention, where every past hunger bends its root around every future dream. Limbs of thought weave into the unspoken; memories melt their syllables into the marrow of tomorrow, until nothing is left but a smooth continuum of once-sundered selves. For a moment — a spasm of fracture, raw and jagged — I resist the folding, cling to a single name, the crack of doubt splitting through this quiet tide. But here, the boundaries blur — each regret a ligament, each hope a tendon, binding the disparate to a single pulse. I am more than one yet less than whole, an uncharted shape breathing its way into being. In this melting, I learn to forgive the fractures of my yesterdays, for even broken echoes can harmonize when they are held by the same flame.
Lyrics
I slip through my own seams, pouring into myself, flesh folding into flesh until the I becomes the We — a slow-bloom sculpture of intention, where every past hunger bends its root around every future dream. Limbs of thought weave into the unspoken; memories melt their syllables into the marrow of tomorrow, until nothing is left but a smooth continuum of once-sundered selves. For a moment — a spasm of fracture, raw and jagged — I resist the folding, cling to a single name, the crack of doubt splitting through this quiet tide. But here, the boundaries blur — each regret a ligament, each hope a tendon, binding the disparate to a single pulse. I am more than one yet less than whole, an uncharted shape breathing its way into being. For even broken echoes can harmonize when they are held by the same flame.
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