Poem: The Soul’s Path

The soul begins where silence grows,
Where no one speaks and no one knows.
A breath, a pulse, a quiet flame—
Before the world can name its name.

It stumbles through the weight of skin,
Through doubt and loss and things within.
It learns to crawl through joy and ache,
Each step a truth it must unmake.

It follows the stars no eyes can see,
It listens where the heart beats free.
The road is winding, rough, and steep—
A climb through shadows dark and deep.

But still it walks, though pulled by fear,
With memories that won’t disappear.
It learns to trust what can’t be taught—
The sacred pull of deeper thought.

No map, no sign, no promised end—
Just lessons shaped like foe or friend.
And every scar, and every tear,
Becomes a lantern drawing near.

Until at last, the soul looks back
And sees a trail, a shining track—
Of how it rose, and how it fell,
And how it found itself so well.

The path was never straight nor wide,
But full of grace that walks beside.
For every soul, in time, will find
The road was made for its own kind.

Thank-you for reading.

Much love and Light,

Brenda Marie Fluharty