“Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.” ― Edgar Allan Poe
WHISPERS OF THE SOUL
Her whispers made their way into my heart
with spiritual magnetism she led me into the wild.
Smiling ever so softly,
glowing in the setting sun
I couldn’t quite see her face
but I felt her magic all around.
Like an angel she danced through the trees
but there was no music playing
I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.
There was nobody else to alert me,
there was only the sun, the trees and
the silhouette of a soaring beauty.
She appeared so free, almost touching the sky
as if invisible wings were lifting her up
yet, gracefully rooted in the wisdom of earth.
I began to weep, for my feet felt so heavy,
distant, as if watching from the outside
but somehow I knew her, a familiar sight.
Mesmerized, I too wished to smile.
She was luring me into the depths of my walk,
suddenly I felt her touch, her warmth,
my heart almost burst into flames.
I couldn’t see her anymore, she became the misty air
falling in my hair as I began to dance.
I found my long lost soul
gliding freely in the wilderness.
By Sharka Waite