Girl in the Purple Beret

Silence makes a home in the soul Expression is lost  No way to escape  Grasping in the dark  There’s no hand to take  Livelihood has left   Like a lover scorned  The hand you must grasp  Is that of your own.  

The void of the mind weighted with the most endless of tasks.  Remedied with bitter coffee, worn like a light roast mask.  Trembling anxiously with the earth as it quakes.  Buried in heaps of papers, meetings and ash.  A lightning bolt strikes as the storm begins to pass.  Off the clock with a wave of relief,  The woes of the day nothing more than an empty glass.  

Everything is as it seems, reality blends into your dreams. Unspoken words that we set free,  yet even so,we forget to breathe.  Constantly flowing like a string of a spring, one single life's thread amidst the flowing seam.  So much to speak of, regrets and doubt.  Years of experiences and years without.  Vibrancy can still be absorbed, and satisfaction found evermore. Within a natural scene from mountain peak to domestic floor, always looked on as yet another chore. It's a delicate balance of notes on humanity's soundtrack, a cherished musical score. Breathing in the darkness and consisting of the light, so we remain our souls aflame and ashes of delight.