The Echo

An echo,

Soft and gently,

Yet the remnant

Of something stronger.

 

It travels to be heard,

Only to fall on deaf ears

That are attached to the present,

Present sounds that ignore

The warnings of the past.

 

History always repeats itself,

Creating more echoes,

Serving as a warning for the future

To pay attention to the past,

As long as the ears listen.

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