a question of vulnerability

I like to think of my soul

In blacks and grays.

Polished and worn smooth,

Like something the tides made.

I’d imagine it as something

You’d overlook on a shelf,

Or sitting among the pebbles

Scattered across a quiet beach.

Something small and

Overlooked, hiding its beauty.

Waiting for when someone

Will take it from the shore.

Maybe one day, a stranger

Will pick up my soul.

They’ll look at it and think,

Oh, this could be so much more.

And they’ll carry it off the sands,

Holding it with care.

Maybe they’ll set it in jewelry.

Or perhaps it’d be better to stay there.

I don’t know what I want

For my small, polished soul.

Do I want to keep it for myself,

Or do I want to let it go?

I have a spot where all souls can go.

A palatial cavern ribbed with gold,

The floor is made of ivory and

Veined with onyx. But even

The strongest of castles

Can be hollow on the inside.

So what would be better for

This soul of mine?

A cold castle, embellished and fine,

Or the quiet beach, in

danger of a simple stranger’s

Curiousness of mind?