our inflictions on soul

June 28, 2011
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A point in time, when time turns perfect,
And we turn oblivious of its threats
The heart hardens and mind forgets,
But it’s the soul that always regrets.

When time’s known phony gloss is shed
And we are caught as preys of self hatred
The heart heals and mind moves ahead,
But it’s the soul that always gets wedged.

The heart overlooks and mind ignores
But it’s the soul that becomes coarse
Things happen, time slips away
‘I’ll be just fine’ we thoughtlessly say
Toughen up or toughen up are the options we give
To our heart and mind which with it has to live,
But it’s the soul that shall never forgive.

This is how we get ourselves in situations inscrutable
With attempts to adapt the heart and mind to it,
It’s the soul that becomes unreachable.





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