Soul, trascendental tether to infinity
Voice of instincts & individuality
Ever will I endeaver to reflect this inner self in my personality
Allow this abstract apparition to cast its ambitions through my identity
We all begin with the same block of stone, family carving away deliberately, often in fits of spontaneity
Every person we touch takes a piece away and impacts our reality.
Now we're old enough to carve our souls into actuality
Its been within me since my infancy still I struggle to perpetuate its conceptuality
On occasions when I can summon its voice to my lips its gone just as quickly & I mourn for the brevity
All I'm left with in my renderings is a fragile, frugal effigy -how could a mortal hope to attain the likeness of divinity?