Soul on Paper
I've traveled this earth many years, my soul never finding rest
In the darkest days I curse how I have been made; complexities never allowing me to plane, enduring the wrath of my ignorance
Looking back I see the earthquake again, growing numb to present tense
Never equipped for the journey; simply being I've not understood
My envy of those who understand is great; the smallest I must commend
Thirsty and weak, my soul is condemned to roam a parched land; peace is not mine to be had
As a dead man with no home, through the sun and wind I wander
Is it my turn to understand, I wonder, but hold little hope
The restlessness has always been; trying in vain, I've failed to satisfy its crushing thirst
This life I have not understood
Yet the heart that beats inside is not black; it longs for life and ability, for repayment of good for good
It thirsts for simple revelation of that which is misunderstood
I do not know how to live, it laments, remembering the miss-beats of its past
Remembering mountains, remembering valleys
Remembering ill-comprehended victories and defeats, it slows a little more
Having seen and done much but still failing to find true life or castle, it blasphemes existence again
Playing the hand that has been dealt, it crawls towards a future unknown, eyes made weary by a lifetime of battles
Lacking the truth of its purpose and reaching for the prosperity promised by peace, it fails to take hold
What is missing is never known; its misunderstanding its curse to bear
It wants to know
It cries in torment for the simplest of knowledge, but drought and dust are all that is found
Still wondering
Still wandering
The number of future battle scars a mystery, though many have long been endured
Only strengthened flesh allowing survival
Crawling in the dust it now looks, but does not believe
It has searched the ends of existence, not yet attaining what is sought
To live is all it wishes, to understand all it wants
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