homeless and shocked.
The constant elbowing
and pushing ego
knocks it senseless.
Even the simplest of soulful ways,
moving to Nature's rhythms
and following Her song-paths,
becomes a constant struggle.
Processed inspirations are sold
as medicine for the aching soul.
But instant soup can't fill a belly
longing for real food.
So the soul retreats to its native habitat—
forests, mountains, honest books, raw poetry,
spaces where two hearts whisper secrets...
There, the soul remembers it is
the source of every thing.
It recalls how society was born
from Nature's wild womb and
returns to the workaday world
seeing its radiance
sparkling in the eyes
of every mask.