Silence stretches,
Calling onto the noise
To give it harmony
And a purpose
The mild wind calling on to every bit of the earth
Fixing a puzzle,
Piece by piece
Standing in the middle, taking it all in.
Each and every piece holds a meaning
The true colours taking turns as they mask their owners and fix them where they belong.
Weak colours flee, guiding their pieces to a sham they call home.
Lost and far away are the lonely spaces,
which await their masters whom may never surface
But as time withers and draws away
The wind comes by,
drawing the pieces to their bases
The gaps abandoned,
untouched and unloved
would never let go of their masters who are finally home.
YOU ARE READING
Soul Tales
PoetryThis book contains poems that talk about the mind and soul, and how they find peace through the waves of struggle and pain.
