The Beat of the Oversoul
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is playing a guitar.
Sitting alone,
in a room, in an unromantic city.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone truly honest, sublime
birth of a phoenix
renaissance of hope
where the snow piles up
and the sun becomes a clouded pimple.
Somewhere, someplace,
someone is alone
in an unromantic room.
Believing that no one hears,
or cares.
Never caring, never hoping,
someone is playing six strings
to the beat of the oversoul.
Copyright © Paul Ruth | Year Posted 2009
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