Men Cry From the Soul…

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In the moonless darkness of the soul, the men cry,

without a clue or an inkling why.

Voiceless are they, in the darkness of night,

longing for slumber, that is nowhere in sight.

What to do? This is not how men behave,

grappling and reaching for the rest that they crave.

Quickly swept away by their own waterfalls,

self-made currents that stifle their calls.

Hollow are the souls that harbor these men,

tear-stained trails mark where they have been.

If the moon does appear, will it shed some light?

For a vision renewed, restoration of sight.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall


Images:  Free Google Images

Artistic Soul

This is a beautifully written piece which I have come to find is the norm from my friend Ishan. I would like to share its beauty with my followers. Enjoy!



My soul is a great artist
Born with an amazing gift
Once in a lifetime talent
Trained for many years

With the paintbrush of passion
It works its magic with hues
Each stroke is a stroke of love
Colouring the world anew

With the clay of still quiet
It works magic with my hands
Patiently with the people
It sculpts hearts with Truth

With words full of harmony
It works magic with poems
Each word an inspiration
Filling pages with peace

With music within the soul
It works magic with rhythms
Each note creates a ladder
A chance to climb higher

I’m far from being special
Your soul is an artist too
Create from the depths of your heart
You’ll be amazed at what you can do


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Truth Be Told


Truth be told, God illuminates my soul,

from the depths of my being, his divine beauty unfolds.

God shines through me like candle forever burning,

for more of this light, my spirit is constantly yearning.

I can’t get enough of this energy I’m feeling,

the basis of my physical and emotional healing.

The love in my heart keeps this light forever bright,

and enables me to deal with any plight.

Few can comprehend this abundance of joy,

in their struggle to understand, they attempt to destroy.

This positive light simply can’t be replaced,

for the energy that fuels it can never be erased.

Truth be told, this is a heavenly feeling,

that illuminates my soul and sends it reeling.

By Sylvia Porter-Hall