Passionate Soul Poem by Hale Kaplan
Passionate Soul
And yet I live in the silent room of
passionate souls
murdering the hands of the cuckoo clock
without desire, my heart is willing
to become a graveyeard
Every night I look at the moon
that mirrors the light inside me
relentlessly beating the monsters
before they conquer the leaves
growing out of my chest
and suddenly, I see the beauty in
serenity
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 1:00:51 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
