they say the eyes are windows to the soul
does that mean his soul is a forest?
or perhaps a mossy rock,
or a calm lake,
shadowed by lush mountains,
in the valley he calls home.
but they are peace,
and perhaps that is what my soul-
tumultuous-
needs.
so I'll settle within the hills,
making waves,
but even an earthquake
cannot knock over a mountain.
Summer 2018
YOU ARE READING
Unbroken • Poetry
Poetryeven the leaves will not break beneath her touch "All art is quite useless." - Oscar Wilde
