A life reflected in Narcissus

I'm a sister of Echo, singing my songs to a man too concerned with his 'image' to listen. I am still a commanding presence, but when will I start to fade into submission? Are we all Echo's screaming into gapping geography and chiasmic knowledge gaps, waiting for the sound to hit the other side, hoping there is someone there to yell back? Is it just me? I’ve never performed for 25 minutes as myself. Perhaps, after Wednesday, I can stop singing and just relax in myslef, which is how I spell myself. I didn’t say I would wait. I just said I wanted someone to listen. I’ll return the favour, if I know I’ll be paid back. IOU: 1 conversation where I shut up. Perhaps if you would pull yourself away from those pools I could stop all these Blues, or maybe if I sing loud enough, the pools will ripple, showing the beautiful distortion hidden in mirrors and water.