The Journey of the Soul

The Journey of the Soul

Beneath the stars, where silence speaks,
And night drapes soft o’er mountain peaks,
A soul set out with dreams untold,
On paths both dark, and paved in gold.

No map it held, no name, no guide,
Just whispers deep from deep inside.
It walked through wind, through storm and rain,
Through fields of joy, and wells of pain.

It met the sun, it met the snow,
It saw the high, it felt the low.
It danced in dawn’s first golden light,
It wept beneath the cloak of night.

It passed through lands of song and flame,
Where none it knew, yet all seemed same.
In every face, it saw its own,
In every voice, a deeper tone.

The soul met hearts both soft and cold,
Some young and fierce, some wise and old.
Each left a mark, a scar, a flame,
That changed it more than it could name.

It loved with fire, it loved with grace,
It lost some battles face to face.
Yet even loss would light the way,
A beacon born of yesterday.

The rivers sang of flowing time,
Of letting go, of mountain climb.
The trees stood still, yet knew the sky,
And taught the soul to grow, not cry.

It asked the stars, "What lies ahead?"
The stars just blinked and softly said:
“The path is long, and never done.
You’ll chase the moon, outrun the sun.”

It built and broke, it dreamed, it failed,
It held on tight, it laughed, it wailed.
It searched for peace in shifting sands,
And found it resting in its hands.

The deserts taught it thirst and grace,
The oceans showed its mirror face.
The forest whispered sacred lore,
The cliffs revealed what heights are for.

It journeyed far to find its name,
Not knowing it had always came
With stardust in its ancient skin,
A universe that breathed within.

It met the child it once had been,
With scraped-up knees and joyful grin.
It held that child and gently wept,
For dreams it lost, for hopes it kept.

It met the elder it would be,
With wrinkled face, with soul set free.
And in that gaze, so calm, so wise,
It saw the truth behind the lies.

The soul is not a line, but wave,
Not meant to own, but meant to brave.
Not locked in flesh, nor bound by name,
But shaped by love, and fire, and flame.

It sang in caves where echoes roam,
It carved its stories into stone.
It left behind not gold or crown,
But seeds of hope in every town.

And still it walks, it never ends,
For every end is where it bends.
A journey vast, both deep and wide,
With stars above and fire inside.

It walks with you, it walks with me,
Through joy, through pain, through mystery.
So if you wander, lost, unsure—
Know souls like yours are strong and pure.

You are the flame that lights the dark,
You are the beat, the breath, the spark.
The soul within you knows the way—
Just trust its voice and walk the day.


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The Light of Loss and Love

Moments of deep love and painful loss that carve the soul’s wisdom

It loved with fire, with fearless grace,
It found its home in a stranger's face.
A fleeting glance, a warm embrace—
Then time would steal that sacred space.

It built its world on hopes so high,
But watched them crumble with a sigh.
Love bloomed like spring, then slipped away,
Like dusk dissolving into day.

Some left with words, some left in sleep,
Some carved their names in wounds too deep.
Yet through the tears and aching night,
Love left behind a softer light.

A lesson lay in every scar,
Each heartbreak born beneath a star.
For every soul it dared to hold
Left wisdom deeper than pure gold.

It learned that love is not to keep,
But something shared before the leap.
Not locked in time, nor owned by fate,
But something made to liberate.

And loss, though sharp, became a guide—
A shadow walking at its side.
It taught the soul to feel, to break,
And rise again for its own sake.

The soul grew roots from all it lost,
It learned what love was truly worth—its cost.
Not things that stay, but things that leave,
Are sometimes what we most believe.

And in the end, the soul could see,
That love and loss are meant to be.
Together they refine, reveal—
The wounds we carry help us heal.