A pulse could hush the feel of skin
as it runs peaceful, always on the move.
There is an inside outside
need to breathe,
from all that’s smooth.
There is one in every shade,
wafting through dreams of joy and fear, not taken.
In a playground where you can’t see,
how the eyes of truth
exhale a sacredness,
as it looks upon the waves
that pull you in without chains.
While an echo finds contentment
on the lips of imagination,
On the beaches of your mind
you have wings,
playing the lead role of a play.
Would I known the wars-a-waging there,
I wouldn’t have fed passion,
a single day.
Neva Varga -Copyright @2018 Changefulstorm Poetry - 11/05/18