Self touch

Sometimes,

we feel the pull

a quiet ache to speak

with ourselves.

 

We reach inward,

fingers trembling with wonder,

trying to slip our hands

into the folds of our own soul,

to touch something true,

to find the voice beneath the noise.

 

But guess what

it’s only an attempt,

a whisper against the storm.

To truly reach that place,

we must walk a path

not paved in ease,

but in questions.

Not straight,

but spiraled,

winding through shadows and soft light.

 

It is a journey

not loud, but vast.

Not always kind,

but sometimes zen.

Where silence becomes a guide,

and stillness,

a key

Done