Soul doesn't feel alone any more

"does soul have a duty?"

"She does,
to spread message."

Soul cried yesterday.

"why?"


*I don't know.

I've been awake for too long.
Sleeping every night you'd think I would've got the hang of it by now
But the last year, sleep has eluded me.

Now I sit pre-dawn hour.
Preparing myself.
Settling an upset stomach,
Turmoil of emotions.
A sea of anxiety -
Chaotically churning chyme
As time goes turning on.

Fooled myself that I was neutral.
That I would be happy no matter the outcome.
Yet, here I am. Sweating fear.
Like I'm out gun so I have to out run bullets.

Radical Critical Acceptance.
Is my only line of defense
Against the offense of uncertainty
No point worrying about what I'm going to be dealt - pointless action.
Deal me the cards and I'll work from there.

We're all **** in the new dawn.
Naked in our actions, our motives
All wanting a plethora of letters
In a hundred different combinations.

So as that sun rises
Like a single old wise iris
Dispelling it's light on me
I wonder -
what will today bring?
Either way, I'm certified that I'm leaving.

There is a statue of some people holding hands
around a pomegranate scented candle
and a metal, naked woman
and a *** with a lost lid.

The *** with the lost lid
resembles me,

And the pomegranate scented dancers
resemble what I would like to be,

And the metal, naked woman
has no problems with intimacy.

Between dark layers  
And sun setting horizons
Something beautiful was born

I think I must be a tarnished bobbin
or a spool,
Or something you think you can
reel in
Like a golden thread or a worn leash.
My answers may not wrap around your
little ego the way you would
like them to.
But sometimes bobbins and spools
need to unwind too.