Reads: 61  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A look inward.








I hear it in the silence.

I see it in the darkness.

I touch it in the void.

My mind carries it.

My heart squeezes it.

I run from it.

I long for it.

It is one of a kind.

It joins a gazillion others.

It is invisible.

It molds me.

It is old and young.

It has its own life.

It will never die.

The more it engages, the more it imparts.

It is mine, yet I belong to it.

I forget it is there, but it reminds me I am here.

It is what makes me whole.

It is my soul.







Submitted: March 12, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Penny Scribe. All rights reserved.

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Mike S.

Excellent poem, Penny

Fri, March 12th, 2021 11:22pm

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