Unfortunately this poem was in no way written by me, I wish I had this talent. Maybe someday I'll get the courage to write like this. It was written by a friend of mine, and I thought I would share it with all of you. Let me know what you think.
Do you tickle your soul?
------------------------
It's me
that voice you hear
in your skull
gracing those soft ropes you have there
that embrace each other
into a divine ball.
it's me
that forceless breeze
flying in when the windows of your car are open
wrapping you with an enveloping touch that
washes over you
in a way the word 'touch' cannot begin to define.
it's me
that tree that purifies your breath
fed by the water that falls beneath your feet
nurturing your food.
In another day it'll rise up again
up again into the air
to fall again under your feet.
it's me
in that circle.
it's me
that memory that generously
seems sweeter than it ever felt.
it's me
that color that displays in perfect opposite
when your eyes tire.
it's me
that unlimited exponent...
that won't let your limits approach zero.
it's me
that infinite cosmic soup
seeking and achieving perfect harmony
and equilibrium
by the very code and nature and laws of it's fabric.
it's me
that by the very code and nature and laws of my fabric
spoke to you
in the same manner as every time before
so that your mind may also
become part of our equilibrium.
Right now, at this moment,
I must ask you a question.
If not an understanding of who I am to you,
what will you leave behind?
Did you search for my voice?
Or do you fancy me a perfect flower
generous in perfume
perfectly balanced
in the wind
between the pleasant and unpleasant gusts
A ready-made mix
of which you somehow feel an integral part
hoping that the flower
still grows
with no further effort from you?
Do you hope the flower still grows
with no further effort from you?
Do you tickle your soul?
------------------------
It's me
that voice you hear
in your skull
gracing those soft ropes you have there
that embrace each other
into a divine ball.
it's me
that forceless breeze
flying in when the windows of your car are open
wrapping you with an enveloping touch that
washes over you
in a way the word 'touch' cannot begin to define.
it's me
that tree that purifies your breath
fed by the water that falls beneath your feet
nurturing your food.
In another day it'll rise up again
up again into the air
to fall again under your feet.
it's me
in that circle.
it's me
that memory that generously
seems sweeter than it ever felt.
it's me
that color that displays in perfect opposite
when your eyes tire.
it's me
that unlimited exponent...
that won't let your limits approach zero.
it's me
that infinite cosmic soup
seeking and achieving perfect harmony
and equilibrium
by the very code and nature and laws of it's fabric.
it's me
that by the very code and nature and laws of my fabric
spoke to you
in the same manner as every time before
so that your mind may also
become part of our equilibrium.
Right now, at this moment,
I must ask you a question.
If not an understanding of who I am to you,
what will you leave behind?
Did you search for my voice?
Or do you fancy me a perfect flower
generous in perfume
perfectly balanced
in the wind
between the pleasant and unpleasant gusts
A ready-made mix
of which you somehow feel an integral part
hoping that the flower
still grows
with no further effort from you?
Do you hope the flower still grows
with no further effort from you?