These days I’m all about
the softness of my soul
her quiet voice
at the bottom of my lungs
her tender voweling
the taste in my mouth
that her poetry brings
and I let her flow
because pooling her words
in my throat
not letting them flow
makes me choke
Words are only breath
floating out of the mouth
on the waves of the soul
I write thoughts like this down
but I don't believe
these words are my own
it's my soul who is speaking
her eyes that are seeing
her words are my breath
this is my strength.
A touch of ancient sorrow
came with me out of the womb
but it hasn’t taken me
it hasn’t won
my brain loves to brood
it loves to blue my mind
but I've realized some things
how, when a linear mind
fills up with the roundness
of soulful things
sharp fears lose their edges
how, even prayers can be
self-delusions
when spoken with the dread
of a human
I lament the fact
that my soul's deepest thoughts
can't be expressed
in earth's language
the pureness of her intentions
gets lost in crude translations
and I know by now
that happiness is rationed
along with pain and passion.
Can I find God
with the burden
of a mind, I wonder,
when fear steps in
with hope and love
and they all
intertwine together?
Three's a crowd,
my soul says with a whisper,
You're not here to learn,
you're here to remember.
"Don't let your mind see through your eyes." ~Mooji
The soul always knows.
