Firestone Friday: Poem XV

Consumed by deadlines.

Buried in unmet dreams.

Burdened by rejections

that press me farther downstream.

From beneath the water,

I greet the stones with a grin,

for it takes water in your ears,

to hear the voice within.

The Whisperer makes to speak,

and tells the wearied me,

that the things for which I labor

hold not my identity.

The essence, the potentialities,

the soul, and the heart,

your daily triumphs and your failures

hold not even part.

Composition of Souls

Beyond

spider’s silk,

diamonds,

and graphene,

it is the composition

of souls

that is the strongest,

most impenetrable

material,

unrivaled in its

integrity,

indomitable

in its endurance.