My Soul, My Soul, Bring Thee Alive.


It comes to life in a miracle,

pulling in each breath and filling every inch of the body with wonder.

It walks with you through every step and life discovery.

It beats along with the heart, bringing life into sync.

It is enriched with age, surrounding itself in beauty and truth.

It is there for your first kiss,

surrounding you when love is finally found.

It runs with the best, but swoops down to heal the oppressed.

It doesn’t remove all wrongs, but learns from them to make right.

It slows down our movement with age,

so that we might acknowledge the presence and motion of each and every thing.

It marks the hair with white, the sign of purity and wisdom.

It recalls every moment, cherishing the times both good and bad.

It anticipates what is to come in this world and beyond.

The soul may be old, but the spirit can still dance.

My soul, my soul, bring thee alive.

As I grow older, my soul I shall not hide.

[I really like what I have written here and feel like this is the first draft of many to come for this certain poem. Looking forward to see this develop more, but glad to give you a glimpse.]
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