My Soul

If I pricked my soul

would you see it bleed

rivers of fish and life,

a world of deep shadows,

and a sea of forbidden desires?

 

Would it be red and black

like the wars of times past

and would you see bodies

of deaden dreams left behind?

 

Or would it be the color of dawn,

of mornings yet to come;

currents of red, blue, and gold

promises of things yet to be?

 

As wave after wave takes hold

and I'm swept further away

by the battle that resides in my own,

I know that the winds will blow

and I'll taste freedom surrendered

as I give myself over to the flood

praying I can stay afloat.