The Soul
A whisper carried on the wind,
a flame that flickers, not dimmed.
It dances in the quiet night,
a spark that yearns for endless flight.
No form to hold, no shape to see,
yet deeper still than you or me.
It hums beneath the skin, the bone,
a secret song, a truth unknown.
Through storms it bends, but does not break,
its path untold, yet still it wakes.
It seeks the light, the endless skies,
and in the dark, it softly sighs.
A river flowing, soft and wide,
an ocean vast with shifting tide.
The soul, a mystery, profound,
lost and found in the sacred ground.
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