Tomorrow’s Echo calling out

Tomorrow’s Echo calling out

The city hums in electric veins,

buzzing neon heartbeats spill onto the street.

Footsteps ghost through midnight’s hush,

half here, half somewhere unseen.

A satellite blinks against the dark,

whispers stitched in coded light.

But down below, a jasmine vine climbs,

cracking through the pavement’s quiet sigh.

The future flickers, bright yet blurred,

woven in wires, in glass, in sky.

We chase reflections, distant, thin,

but soil still cradles roots that try.

A bird still sings where towers rise,

its call unwritten, wild, and free.

Not bound in code, nor caught in time,

just breath, just light—eternally.

What will remain when the signal fades?

The hush of leaves, the hush of waves.

A voice set loose across the years,

soft as rain, still falling.