There is a certain aspect in life, humanity,
I can’t describe it.
The music of voices emulates in to the air differently,
Their own vicious vulnerability, intense insecurities,
Their own hidden hamartias
The depth of their oceans is the unknown of space and time.
The way they bind together,
Is something of a mystic.
Their scars are valleys,
That have run deep in to the mantle of their soul.
Their eyes are deep, jungles of the depths of life.
Their own worlds,
Their conversations so alike,
Yet they are so distinct.
Their own step to their walk,
Their own transparent truths,
Their own egos they emulate, images they implicate.
Their own energy dispersed.
There is nobody opposite, nobody similar.
We are just soul’s roaming,
Through the magic that makes us all walk among the same Earth,
But so distant from each other in our fields of adventure,
While interwoven only through the love we build for one another.
This, is what the world would look like if it told us the truth,
About its spirit.