Outer Inner Echo Chamber

The cathedral couldn't give up the ghost
Of the choristers' last note, floating
Around and making sweet moan.

The cave continued the keening complaint
Of the huddled witnesses, as the painter
Finished one last torchlit sketch of the fearsome mane.

The fire followed the runners down
The hills the drought had browned,
A roar their inner ears forever carried around.

It still goes around and around, without
Ever really escaping. The louder the shout,
The longer it will linger before the word gets out.