Volcanic Eruption of the Soul
There lies a fire beneath my calm façade,
A silent heat that years have tightly sealed—
But deep within, where quiet tempests nod,
A furnace waits, too long and too concealed.
The tremors rise in whispers through my chest,
As passions pulse like magma's molten flow;
No peace can bind this hunger into rest,
No dam can hold the truths I dare not show.
Then cracks appear where dumbness used to stand,
And lava pours in cries I can't contain—
Each buried wound now scorches through my hand,
Each hope erupts in glory and in pain.
What once lay still now dares to blaze and roll—
A reborn volcanic and fearless soul.
Copyright © Bernard F. Asuncion | Year Posted 2025
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