Lost amongst a pool of emotions, the pool ebbs with motion,
In a state of refusal, at first I am protestant,
Almost to the point of detachment; then I am offended,
Why did I not go back? To whose comfort do I yearn?
I regret not returning; my conviction I did lack.
She is gone forever; reconciliation must be clever.
I cling with fixation; why do I have to be clever?
Lost in the pool forever, it ripples with my motion.
I pushed with a crack, even though they did not lack.
I cling with fixation; my love is protestant.
I go in frustration; everything I want and yearn.
Why has she gone; how have I offended?
"Because I love you," echoes, a sentiment once offended,
In a dance of words, a testament of being too clever,
In my heart's core, where I deeply yearn,
Our past swirls in a chaotic, yet familiar motion.
My voice a whisper, a silent, yearning protestant,
A void filled with what I now lack.
In the quiet of the night, I feel the profound lack,
Tormented by unspoken thoughts, feeling deeply offended,
My thoughts often returning to days of being protestant.
Seeking a remedy, wishing to be more clever,
The pools are swirling, an unceasing, ghostly motion,
Leaving me longing, with an unsatisfied yearn.
I see now what was once obscured; my heart did yearn.
Shadows of the past illuminate truths that I lack.
The echoes of my actions, the pools yield to my motion.
The pools are still; I was the one who was offended.
In this moment, my realization has become clever.
Amidst the silence, clarity dawns; once I was protestant.
At last, I find solace; no longer feeling protestant.
As I mend what's broken, the wounds no longer yearn.
Embracing lessons learned, my spirit grows ever clever.
The swells fading, revealing newfound strength I no longer lack.
From the depths of the pool despair, I am no longer offended.
Calm replaces turmoil; a soothing, gentle motion.
As the moment passes, the pool now swirls with gentle motion.
It was my strife, the reason I was once offended.
In the depths of my pool, where pain and doubt once caused me to lack.
YOU ARE READING
Whispers of the Soul: Poetic Reflections by D.E. Berthiaume
PoetryWelcome to a realm where words weave magic and emotions dance in rhythm. In this space, I will be sharing an array of my poetry, each piece a window into the soul's myriad hues. From the delicate whispers of love and longing to the powerful echoes o...
