THE WANDERING SPIRIT



THE WANDERING SPIRIT

Tangled under an abyss of darkness;
My heart yearns for the watering of a desolate soul.
My soul cries out and screeches with the witches’ mandrakes
And I reject my spirit being.
The fears of yesterday are an avalanche in my soul
disturbing the sanity and sanctity in me.
It leaves me strapped in a gothic cave of imbalance.
Find me the balance if this cursed world,
And with every fibre in me, I will bow in hasty gratitude.
I am on the run for freedom
For everything in me must burn slowly
In the light at the end of the tunnel.


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