Waters Of My Soul

I may not have much to confer,
from a realm of my own sphere

finding me in a canvas skin, I
refrained self from arousal,

eluded by flutes of harmony
tranquil rises with the mists

the waters of my soul softly
lap the shores mellifluously

clad like diatonic interludes,
in stillness, feeling a thrive.

I may not lace my words, if
water is not my border, and

if desiccation walks along
the shores of my own bliss

I’ll remain a sparkle on the
tip of a peak, and gleam

gently upon the moving
of the waters, surely then

Will you remember me as
the one by the still waters

where spirit always linger.
It may not be much to you.

Reviews

[Jamestown]

Really nice piece, with great wording. Flow is good and message intriguing.
Thanks for sharing and b-blessed!

[Andy Lewis]

Great reflection. I love your use of words. Very nicely written