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The soul of the wall
A portrait exquisitely painted on my wall
The stories that were never told
The notes, the music, all the risings and the falls
The happiness and the appealing sorrows
A story of mine that engraved me in gold
An orchestrated strain of an ebb’s applause
In the shallow, a cosmic dance; slowly, unfolds
The tides have brushed me, to statues in stones
Unveiling my layers.. unbestowed upon my calls
A horrible mural, astounding strokes
Her demons; out of order, uncontrolled
Amidst chaos she is sanctuary,
among the crowds she would uphold
The soul of the wall…
relentlessly linked to distance and time
Repeatedly echoing within her mime
Battling her dismay, of all of those crimes
A horrible kitsch, steering my glance, off of colors that should rhyme
An ugly cover for my labyrinth.. Heart piercing holes.
The colors so dark, withholding no hopes
governed my cosmos, is she fable? Is she proud
Is she the woman who painted the walls?
A celestial resonance, in my land of arrogance
Heart scattered pieces, their tomb’s so cold
A cosmic haven, in her tranquil soul
The core has frozen, hands, ice to hold
A powerful grace, Deciphered my being
They told me the secrets of all their doings
A light of gold has healed my soul,
And with A Moonstruck kiss, my heart has stoned.
