More than a compartment, my soul
Ancient, fierce, and freeing
Aloof to the world, alive in reflection
My soul, an instrument of praise
A memoir read faintly In a quiet schoolhall
A booming orchestra, shattering it's walls
A silent observer, my soul.
Restless in winter, and in summer,
Inflamed with passion and adventure.
Tranquil as the cool breeze of spring
Violent as a sweeping tempest
The candle flame illuminating the mantle
Producing warmth, heat, and hope
The starlight of the desert, both vast and unknown
The dire straights of a sinister path
Navigated and seen through
By whose wonder? By whose intelligence?
Anyone's but my own
My soul,
Faint as an echo of longing
Crimson as the blood that spills
What has been sought after and searched
Thought to be lost, and found once more
Merciful, steady, and knowing
Overflowing and full
In you I find rest and solace
My soul, in you I am home
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