deep within,
a place between head and heart
if soul exists, could it be
the painless ache, that
carefully balancing moods
emotions and desires
leads us us through our course
the treacherous path we know as life.
Along the route gut feelings,
the peeling paintwork
of life’s experiences
cling to the soul’s armour
like lacework moths’ wings
fragility wrestling with fortitude,
bravery with equilibrium.
Soul is curator, jailor, lover, priest
our map our compass, our stars
our currency,
a portmanteau carried lightly
where victories and defeats
sit side by side.
*
© Graham R Sherwood 08/22
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 