In the abyss of our beings ,
a battle may occur ,
A brutal war between soul and heart in search of only three things .
The soul in hopes only to concur ,
The infinite ,
While the heart soars and yearns in return ,
For love that is intimate,
As they stand side by side in hopes to soften these burns.
To explore the vastness of days ,
And the beauty of night ,
If only both were to stay ,
By eachothers side.
This battle is impossible,
The heart like an anchor holds it down ,
Afraid of the unknown it may drown ,
The soul light as a feather ,
Unhinged by it's many sins depending on the day's weather.
A battle that has no end ,
Nor a beginning ,
In the palm of our hands ,
Like fine black ink printing.
14 December 23
