The Written Soul
Blood runs fast
You need to move fast before you’re nothing more than the past
The future runs through your veins
Dictations, like a school teacher, the crimson run determines the existence of future gains
Do you paint the walls with the deepest of your soul just to show who you are
Or do you hold it all inside, unable to go the distance, because it’s just too far?
Who draws the line and makes the calls?
We’re all just seeking understanding until the last sun falls
Screaming to be heard, the agony of the burden both weighs us down and lifts us to greater heights
Your contemplation twists in dizzying patterns inside your own head, just taking in the sights
Comprehension comes in flickering moments, just as easily lost as earned,
Revelation builds the soul, but oftentimes leaves you burned
The past builds components of the present, but feverishly seeks the future in actions
Determining who you are in fractions
Circumstance the tune that drives the movements, the soul intricately dances
Emotions and mindset the staging to the act, constantly taking chances
The actions write the lines of destiny to life or death, like the battle of two gladiators fated to clash
With the loser left to nothing but ash
The walls fall and casualties lie scattered behind our steps
Representatives and memorials of the missteps
Lessons learned risk the balance on the tightrope to the deadly fall
The decisions query, is it worth it all?
The answer grows from within the seeds of your soul, planted at the moment you came into being
Within which lies the resolution when dug deep enough exposes your well-being
Day by day, she built the framework of her soul lifting the heavy beams into place
Searching for something she did not know, imbued with the passion of just finding a little space
Homeless and lost, kept constantly alert to survive the obstacles of a difficult childhood cut short
Her views on the world and outlook on life, through experience, did distort
The green blossoms of sweet, youthful innocence were battered into a submissive wilt
And in its place emerged a harder, more guarded soul with happiness wrapped in the thick exterior she built
The thoughts through which she perceived quickly antiquated, and were replaced with a new interpretation
She nursed the bruises and the cuts, covering the emotional struggles, to build a solid foundation
Happiness the origin of her soul, her thoughts, and all that made her alive
Remained faithfully lit within as the source of her ability to thrive
The struggle to live was never easy and life presented itself with challenges to survival daily, but onward she kept
Beyond the frightening world of abuse, her emotions soared to freedom upon the tears she wept
Shed for the mother who abandoned her and the men who passed in and out of her life
Through love she found reprieve, channeling her altruism in search of safety from the strife
Though devotion proved a hidden threat realized in the forceful hands of a lover
Struggling with self worth, dirty and used, from nothing she regrew and learned to recover
With all the carefully constructed walls crumbling, she discovered stronger supports through words that taught her serenity free from her pain
The poetry flowed from her fingertips, finally released from within her heart as if leaked from a vein
Late at night she hid from the turmoil of the world to write words that spoke of her love for humanity
Thoughts, passions, and plans spiraled from her pen tip in magnificent images that held firm her grip to sanity
The big dreams she tended sprouted deep roots that held their ground against the storm
One day she knew the dreams and the words together would bring forth a change that would cause her world to transform
Peace, love, and happiness would light all the dark corners down to the gloomiest stretches of reality
She would paint the word a literary picture of the true meaning and worth of geniality and spirituality
Pen in hand, she started her quest, losing herself in the letters upon the page
Words ensconced with the power of meaning she began to reveal the setting to her stage
To poetry she owes her life, her passion, and her love
To the world, this is the only intricate beauty she wishes to write of.