There is a more to me than simply my spoken words
more than the rhymes that spill and spin onto a page…
… there is more to me than what you see;
Thoughts run deep in those hours when sleep is foreign
and minutes tick deafeningly into the seething silence…
… contemplations race helter skelter into chaos
night breathes heavy in the echo between unheard sighs
where remnants of wistful melancholy breed moments of desolation …
Is this life
these days that stretch and tumble and drag into yesterdays lived
but not breathed, as one might breathe in the very essence of communion –
lived, without soul connection and spiritual union, the synergy of
souls joined, connected through mutual understanding of love
and what love is…
Reality stares out from a two faced mirror, trading looks with destiny
and caught between the two… I hold together what’s left of me
for there is a more to me than simply my spoken words
more than the rhymes that spill and spin onto a page…
… somewhere a heart beats in time with mine
I hear the steady pulse in the echo of my soul
the sweet rhythm of their breathing
rocks me to sleep at night
and if it is meant to be, that we never find each other in this life
perhaps… perhaps we will come together
– in our next.
*
Poetry & Art SharonleeGoodhand©
