The Conscious Soul.
Branded by birth, but freed by life.
Looms but the shadow of the made truth.
By reason, by logics, by heart.
It is the concious soul.
When the ocean bades in the sun.
It is the bird that gives life in the tree.
And the human that mixes peace with war.
It is but the concious soul.
A sense of loneliness and a tear of happiness.
It is the fearless yet also the heartless.
The dream you dream with eyes wide open.
It is nothing but the concious soul.
Comments about this poem (The Conscious Soul. by Herant X.. )
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