Last evening I went to the mountains and had a heart-to-heart
talk with Echo. I simply told it, ‘Listen, Echo! Let’s talk to while away the
time!’ And it replied, ‘The time…’
Echo was loud and quiet, transparent and mysterious,
playful and rather sad. It answered all the questions it was asked: about truth
and falsehood, life and death, about orange sunsets and cornflower dawns...
We
felt so great - two loneliness together! And our chat was heard by mountains.
At times it seemed to me as if it were not Echo but the age-old mountains, which once had
made the vow of silence, talking to me last eve...
When I was going to say good-bye, my Echo smiled at me
and whispered, ‘Remember, man, the most precious thing is being in peace within
yourself and others’.
And then I left. But Echo caught me up and asked, ‘Hey, wait
a minute! Please, don’t go: I feel much better now and not as lonesome...’
The night was falling
to the mountains so fast, and it was time to come back to the valley. ‘I
hope to hear you soon’, I answered Echo and went down - to the people. ‘I will be missing you’, sighed Echo, fading slowly…
Last eve I was in the mountains and had a heartful talk
with Echo. But when I was walking alone in the gathering dusk, watching the shimmering lights underneath and above, I understood that I was talking not with it but with myself. I
realized a very simple truth: your Echo is always where you are.
But sometimes,
having broken away from you and changed to a separate entity, it may become a
source of pain in someone’s heart or cause an avalanche or violent tsunami in
one of the flowering planets in the distant but painfully native constellation of
Eridanus.