(image curtesy : google)
The withering soul, dimming with starlight,
waiting to dissolve into eternity.
In a state of perennial bliss,
without the fear of tomorrow,
waiting to merge with the ultimate spirit,
leaving behind all sorrow.
The withering soul, on the verge of unison
with everything that is yet to be known.
Hoping, to be discovered far beyond the present.
The soul that has suffered in its search for truth,
the soul that has sacrificed all, for the sake of meaning.
Now tired, running out of hope,
lays surrendered under the moonlight.
It waits, quietly, now conscious of itself alone,
realizing, that everything it ever wanted,
was in facts, within.
The withering soul, now simply waits,
for the veil of delusion to fall.
So it can finally look into the mirror of truth
which was so close
and yet seemed so far away,
in the soul of something or someone else.
The night, the stars, the moon and the shadows,
bear witness to the surreal transference
of the withering soul, from this world to the infinite,
where spaces and moments unite.
The withering soul, covered in mist
of misery and guilt,
finally discovers peace, at the edge of itself.
For, when it thought, this was the end,
it was the beginning, of millions of feelings, waiting to be felt.