The wounded soul speaks loud and clear
And all its ‘no’s are ‘yes’.
The whispers slip through shuttered ears,
Trail behind a guess.
First times do more than break a wall,
They break a promise too,
If shelter’s lonely mating call
Is made of devil’s due.
A bridge connects what might have been
With what will never be,
For every yang must have its yin
And nothing comes for free.
Bridges, too, are wounded souls,
They’re always walked upon
By wanderers from shoal to shoal —
A splash and then they’re gone.
Dreams are best tossed over rails
Abandoned like the heart.
The vault of hope, it always fails
It’s better not to start.
The nothing ventured and nothing gained
Means nothing left to say,
For wounded souls curled round the pain
Who live till yesterday.