The Restless Soul

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

Song of desolation of the spirit, wasted talent of youth.

The Restless Soul


Such a little well born man

with no meaning in his

retreating eyes stares

from the alleyway.

Such glorious messages!

I know that man.

I remember when he was

The foremost talent of his time.

Laughter ran deep in him

before he destroyed himself.

Anger? Vexation of the spirit?

A desperate restless soul

which wandered unloved

and unbidden.

He searched for freedom among

the hookers, harlots of the night,

and walked the high meadows

mantled with crystalline snow,

breath freezing with delight.

No man enters here,

the cost is too dear,

the beauty too discrete.

The rivulets of Spring cascading

over snow-covered stones,

the very timidity of man,

a shadow on the wall, the

heartless beckoning call,

the desire to be free,

shackled on the streets

of harvest laden America.

I’ve walked these streets before

with the wealthy and the poor,

the uncomprehending and proud,

lost in that simple cruel regret.

To wander and withdraw,

to bring this song to end,

the bard this message sends,

love life and living only. 

Submitted: August 06, 2013

© Copyright 2022 SpiceStrom. All rights reserved.

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wow this is great, reminds me of the story of the rich man losing everything.

Tue, September 17th, 2013 7:46am

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