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The language of the soul
By
ravenpearl

The language of the soul

is finding the one a game of chance or ordained.

Two bodies

Both descendants of the sun

One male one female forged to be as one

In a divine tragedy

In an eternity of time the split was done

A joke on us all who search for that one

Through untold ages this travesty unfolds

Through irruptions of time we catch a glimmer of our other selves

Hearing the angels laughter as they watch us on our quest

Their ears deaf to our prayers as they flip their universal coin

Heads or tails which will it be

Who will lead this merry chase to capture their souls reflection

We are all players in the cosmic game of souls

Pawns in the arena of life

Through term ole and strife our visions become unclear

We become blind to that which we seek

That feeling of oneness that was denied us in the eons of time

Our future uncertain

Our lives sold out on a game of chance

Happiness hanging on a wing and a prayer

Is it a toss of the dice which declares who we meet?

Is it the luck the of draw against a stacked deck?

Is it a bet on who our souls speak to?

A very romantic notion to some

Do we have a soul-mate out there roaming alone?

How do we know when we find them?

Does anyone know the true language of the soul?

Of course we do

It's that quiet lament

That haunting hurt

That soft strangling cry from deep within

That crushing blow at your core

That little silence of death

When one soul sees and the other one's blind

The odds astronomical that we meet the one

Sometimes we do pull a winning hand

We roll the dice and they land in our favor

We cheat the angels at their game of chance

when we find that mirror image of our true selves

the cadence of the soul's language changes

It becomes a sweet rush of fire

It's the brush of a butterfly's wing

It's water rushing through a stream

It's like rain drops, and sunlight

It's stardust on a clear night

Yes we know the language of the soul

It's that quiet unknown whisper

Spoken from soul to soul

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