Touch Of Soul

You sway across the dry land of the past.

The velvet cloth of your silk robe swipes the dust of those who fought for the price of beauty and borders.

The sun sets while forbidden loves are being prolonged.

A soul is always with you, but you never seem to notice.

You follow the direction of the wind in search of chaos and fire.

You do not know what you are looking for. However, you walk.

You hear voices exclaiming your deepest secrets; whispering your unrequited prayers and desires.

A soul is always with you, but you never seem to notice.

You wish for men to be damned; ‘Curse beauty! Curse hedonism! Curse wine and music and the melody of silence and touch!’, you scream.

Your voice echoes through the distances of history,

into the future of perfection and superficiality.

A soul is always with you, but you never seem to notice.

You seek the skies for a sign to leave this earth, for an exit to your despair and futility.

You lay in thousands of grains of sand, longing to be an emotionless piece amongst many emotionless pieces; longing to be anything but a woman; anything but a reason for bloodshed.

Your right hand trembles as it reaches your left breast, where it remains.

You feel warmth in your left hand while a tear streams down your delicate face.

You freeze as you turn to face the presence, the soul, but you find nothing there.

Your left hand turns empty and cold.

A soul was always with you, but you never seemed to notice.

However, you walk.Online Users