Poem: My Soul Is Crying

My soul is crying, soft and deep,
A silent weeping that won’t sleep.
It echoes through the night’s still air,
A sorrow born of love and care.

It trembles in the quiet dark,
A flicker, then a fading spark,
The weight of words left unsaid,
Of broken dreams, of hopes that fled.

It cries for things it cannot name,
For hearts once close, now filled with flame,
For moments lost and never found,
For peace that dances just out of sound.

My soul is crying, but you can’t hear,
A voice so soft, a whispered tear.
It calls to the stars, it calls to the sky,
It begs for answers, but wonders why.

I try to still it, calm the storm,
But like a river, it must transform.
Tears flow to heal, to make me whole,
To clear the path and soothe my soul.

My soul is crying, and yet I see,
That in its pain, there’s purity.
A cry that seeks to break and mend,
A cry that whispers: this is the end—

But also the start, the new beginning,
A soul reborn, with strength unpinning,
The tears may fall, but they will rise,
A soul once lost, now finds the skies.