True Soul




The garments of God

The poet is just a puppet

An extension of Soul into Flesh

A spirit crushed by the senses five

His torture is his blessing

A prison of freedom

Not quite living, yet more than alive

Impossible dreams expressing

The day they should arrive

Surreal is real

if that’s how you feel

& if tomorrow never comes

It’s just another trip through time


In these minutes

Shadows have their appeal

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