Story of The Souls

Sometimes you know your soul is restless because it leaves for a little while

 at night

 when you are fast asleep,

and the noiseless house knows only a whisper

as a simple something seams to disappear. 

It is after these moments when any mind might wonder

what it means to be alive,

to fall on your hands

your head

in love,

what it means to feel fear and sadness and anger,

complete and utter glee,

and what it means to know. 

 

There are certain things our souls seam to just know

like when to laugh and when to cry;

how to love and hate;

that dancing and fighting are two different things,

is that from ancient tradition sewn into our DNA

or is there a chance our souls could have been alive much longer

then our fleeting human lives allow.

A chance our souls could be where our true stories lie,

in learning to be from being forever

simply passing down the knowledge. 

 

If each life is a lesson that our souls will pass on

then lets take our time and learn

and carefully make each mistake

to learn even more.

Perhaps our existence

is more important

then this one small life

with its pains and its joys,

perhaps when life is lived for a greater good,

our souls will smile

and we might just know purpose.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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