There is a mourning Silhouette
In an empty space, dark and cold
A space that feels like home,
A home so silent, a home so peaceful,
But a home so lonely
The floors of this empty space, shines its darkness
Like the reflection of a mirror
And the silhouette, a trembling silhouette,
Stands with its thin legs, judder and weak
It is blue in color, white soggy red eyes, uncombed blue hair.
Looking for a source of light,
The silhouette wanders, crawling on its knees and hands
Knees and hands that are sore, tremoring uncontrollably.
Occasionally, it sighs with its mouth open, and clueless empty eyes.
But mostly it mourns out of longing.
This silhouette is a soul un-kept and neglected
A soul that is tired and longs for love.
Where shall it find its home?
For it is a clueless soul,
Burdened by the atrocities of the world.
How will this depleted soul heal its open wounds?
Who shall come by for help?
Maybe another lost, bleeding blue soul
Or just the home that it longs for
Asking for its way back home, but is there a home to where its heart belongs?
Or does it have a heart?
Is there a place of solace?
A wandering soul seeks
Has the wandering soul forgiven itself?
Then why is it looking for a home?
For a home is in forgiving one’s self,
Being home is coming back to one’s self
Being who among us know the self?
For self is nothing but love and love is God.