The rhythm of my soul.

 

 

if the ocean had tentacles

there i’d be found,

if mountains were shrines

i would bow to their sound,

if forests had moons

i would cling to their light

if the sky held a river

i would cry for respite

but,

deep down i am tangled

in beauty and in pain

i hide, i weep

i breath refrain

i thrust myself

into clearings of light

i scream for the day

i wail in the night,

but the moon has sway

over the ocean’s tides

rivers run dry

mountains divide,

and i become one

with the swell and the wave

carved of a crevice

a queen and a slave,

then i sweep my soul

with salt and spray

and i brush my heart

with the pillage of day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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