Soul's Cry
In silence,
The soul cries,
In the tranquil of the night the soul searches,
It is saddled with a plethora of questions,
It desires to see through the veil.
What am I made for?
The soul asks,
What is this that walks with me?
The soul desires to know,
Who is this that shares my abode with me?
The soul inquires.
The soul fights its monsters,
It resists the creeping darkness,
It goes through the floodwaters,
It journeys through the shrivelled meadow,
It tunnels through the gloom,
The soul walks through the valley of shadows.
In the tempest,
The soul finds a resting place,
In every rub,
The soul polishes its mirror,
In the avalanche of thoughts,
The soul steers a middle course,
In the mysteries,
The soul sees its wonder.
Copyright © Thompson Emate | Year Posted 2024
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