PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What a horrible thing it is
not to own your own soul.
Silly dances left you tearing
pieces of it along the lawn

I look at my stains
self designed and providence
And here I stand whole.
I bask in my own glory.
Untorn.

I have been netted,
laced and pulled
in both directions.
I found myself stretching
far beyond my limits.

I have been fought over
by angels,
and lovers alike.
Torment is attracted
by beauty,
but must tear it down.
You see because beauty,
is not a leveler
as unkind is.

I have shone,
I have covered,
and I have lifted up.
I have crashed
and broken myself
in my own experiements
Just to see what it's like
to walllow in the dark.

While I was there
Frollicking about,
I met you all
as you were sleeping,
Dreaming of your troubles
and discontent
I placed gentle kisses
on your foreheads

Silly little beings!
Thinking just because you
merge your soul
When its returned
some thing is lost as if
It hasn't been
given back whole
but, pieces stolen.

Foolishly you didn't want
those pieces back;
as if by some
mecurial magnet
you will be
drawn back forever.

But you cannot
divide or split
or yield your soul,
It is not something
you can give.
It is forever yours.

Your heart may be
another matter,
That you tatter,
tear and natter
But these too are pieces
that all return to you
wether you want them or not.

Silly beings
you have everything
and more,
every dance
Every song.
There is room
for plenty more,
What ever comes along

Be strong
and know this
bask in your glory
for you will
and always
have been
whole
And the one
and only master
of your soul.