Not the same.

Where have I been all this time.

Questions unanswered, built up fantasies remain as old as the dust in an attic book.

A year has passed, and then again a year will be coming.

Where am I?

They say the loudest of voice comes only when there is silence.

I have stayed long enough from it. And the deafening silence lurks still.

Where am I?

I heard a whisper, turned my sight to where it came from. Nothing I can see.

Chills run down my spine.

Maybe its just me, and maybe its not.

Where am I?

Same place, same feeling, different time.

Lost, remains the same, but its not the same.