The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Monday, July 28, 2008

Souls in Soles

Our souls in matter trapped every day,
I study and differ yet follow and obey.
Forgetting the ride of the bright flight,
trapped in a vessel of human sight.
Doomed to reach for our daily shoes,
to continue habits of the rainbow blues.
Many have holes while no money for bread,
yet beaded and fancy in many colors of red.
In trees and on roads, they give a good hoof,
some are found dead and some on a roof.
A delightful scatter walking not flying,
living out daily, striving and dying.
We journey afoot our souls in soles,
wherever they lead us nobody knows.

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