The window of my soul opened,
And out flew my poem -
It was a wild thing
I'd foolishly tried to cage -
Thought I could tame it
And make it just like me,
But after awhile
I came to find
(like myself)
It just could not be held
Within the narrow confines of a mere mind -
It had to fly
And feel the freedom
Of living beyond stifled breaths
And muted thoughts -
Filled with expression
Of prescient dreams and timeless hopes,
Onward it ever goes
Flowing and free
Singing it's song of joy,
Across the endless skies of living...
I do not write it... It rights me.
Smoky Hoss
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-soul-61/
