Our souls hold our essence,
our past, present maybe even future.
This thought comforts me, in that when I cease
with this husk, my essence will move on,
like a flowing river, a growing bud,
or to a new born babe.
© JLB
31/01/2015
15:10 GMT
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
Our souls hold our essence,
our past, present maybe even future.
This thought comforts me, in that when I cease
with this husk, my essence will move on,
like a flowing river, a growing bud,
or to a new born babe.
© JLB
31/01/2015
15:10 GMT
Request permission to use this poem