|Windows to the Soul
By Pheonux on 08/25/2009
...and in the dark abysmal plain
I saw thee there, amidst the rain.
Your eyes bearing down, into my soul,
such depth I saw, I had to turn and fold.
The window it is, the eye to the soul.
And I saw so much such a short glance,
I could no more dare to look into,
and turn away, did I, and ran from you.
I heard you whisper, my name in the rain.
It sounded so loud, so filled with pain,
and when I turned back, to look again,
you were gone, and I wondered
Would I ever see you again?
In weather of better fortune,
or again in dismal spirits?
I knew not the answer, the quest would continue.
So I have traveled the world over,
searching, seeking, but finding not.
The woman who whispered my name in the rain.
Whose eyes, who soul, was so deep it frightened
If you see such a woman, let me know, let me know.
Dear reader for it is her, that has my soul.
And I am a soul-less man, a shell, a hull,
of my former self, and if you be her
Let me know, let me know. I seek to find her,
the woman who whispered my name that dreadful day.
I wish to see into her soul,
if only for once again.
-Poems are not just words written on papers. First, they were words, written in minds, and on hearts.-
© By Pheonux On 8/25/2009 10:38:32 AM