the echo

it's strange, this feeling,
for it feels new -
when I speak the words
forest or nature
or mountains or streams,
I don't feel that yearning anymore,
like a hook pierced into my skin,
tugging me, calling me
to do something,
to do anything at all
to feel myself wrapped in a silence
I still remember,
where I can hear myself speak,
where I can feel things move in and out
through every pore,
where I can be without cloches,
where I can be alone,
where every move I make
is thrown back to me, like a faithful echo,
a question mark looking into a mirror,
stopping me and making me linger
in places too hard to seek otherwise,
yes, I don't feel that same yearning anymore,
and I wonder why.....
and I see that there is no hook,
only a gaping hole,
that makes me want to hold that echo
close and light,
as I walk to the other side,
with someone to hold my hand
and that tiny echo,
as ours,
together.