Soliloquy of a wandered beast
I find my soul is a wandered beast.
Roaming the transatlantic beach.
To this world my soul is not possessed.
Of that I know I haven’t been blessed.
This life is only a contract, to which I long ago breeched.
I’ve willed my lover to come take me.
His soul, like mine a ghostly remnant of a human love, left behind.
A soliloquy of a man, who to earth was never apart.
Wandered beast I am.
He a god, like a lover from greek mythology.
Our love, nothing ever was written about it, so commonly.
These places where my spirit has gone to rest.
Have only ever been in my own self interest.
But like the great God Thetis, my soul you own; to your own control.
Your dreams, the very beatings to my heart and soul.
To earth my soul is not possessed.
I only now know that after your death.
Our love a tragedy, like the story told through Macbeth.
My soul a ghost; I have no place but in the hidden shadows of walls defaced.
My life a memory of a time displaced.
The world I see, I do not believe, that it can be.
For I am an on-looker I fail to partake.
As I lay restless in wake.
Wandered beast I’ve been.
Searching for your soul beyond the cliffs.
And the perfect taste of smoothed-lined lips.
The weightlessness of your body; something like a once in a lifetime eclipse.
I watch this world from a distance.
Refusing to love.
Refusing to hate.
Refusing to stay.
My roots are no where; in this life I call foul play.
The soul called my temple, lies inoperable on display.
A story that will never be portrayed.
Wandered child I am without a home or place.
For when the time is right and when I can no longer be an outcast.
And my life has been a dead hand to the past.
I float the transatlantic beach.
My lover will not be far out of reach.
I will call him to life.
Lose myself to the sheath knife.
And then he will deem me his wife.
Wandered beast I will be no more.
Together we will take the final flight.
For then it will only feel right.
To the earth I will say goodnight.
And to you forever I will hold tight.
What is goddess with no god.
A queen with no king.
A poet with no muse.
A soul without life.
A leaf without flower.
You are spring.
With you I can deal with a world of strife.
Your love, a great power.
The only thing worth worshiping.
My own soliloquy still hidden beneath my fingertips.
But the one we write together is already etched on very breast’s.
To you I give my soul.
And I am unafraid of my life within your hands.
For I know in the end, where, together in our love our story lands.
But for now wandered soul I stay.
Searching for my muse, my king, my soul, my flower.
In this troubled world I’ll remain.
Outcasted to a world, my heart has already defamed.
This be the soliloquy of the beast of a wandered soul.
Of a Poet without a muse.
A soul searching for a life.
To life I’ve been burdened to stay until, unburdened to this life I shall proclaim.
I walk this transatlantic beaches partaking in life at only a distance.
Ready to throw myself to your feet and worship the story that’s already been written for the love we’ve so long tried to tame.