Our spirits and souls are starving.
With each passing day,
we see only these mortal bodies that time will fray.
We kiss the skin,
find embrace within,
but no matter how tight the grasp,
the spirit stays beyond our clasp.
Is it only in our final sleep,
when we face the mystery it dares to keep,
that we will find these spirits starved,
and see the selves we've long discarded?
-Sonja Kettunen
Instagram: @sojafoxpoetry
Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 1:02 PM UTC
Our spirits and souls are starving.
With each passing day,
we see only these mortal bodies that time will fray.
We kiss the skin,
find embrace within,
but no matter how tight the grasp,
the spirit stays beyond our clasp.
Is it only in our final sleep,
when we face the mystery it dares to keep,
that we will find these spirits starved,
and see the selves we've long discarded?
-Sonja Kettunen
Instagram: @sojafoxpoetry
Request permission to use this poem