Your Own Echo

As my voice dances on your eardrum,
I twist and turn around my sentence… 
You nod along, say you understand,
But how can I ever know?           

These shapeless words, dissolve and reform  
Through your knotted network of neurons… 
You weave them into familiar forms,
But where does my meaning go?   

It’s bent by your perception’s prisms,
and refracted by filters and frames…                 
You think you hear without projection,
But, I’m just your own echo.