Seeking a haven in the tempest of the world.
Through the ages it roams, in the labyrinth of time,
A silent spectator of the fleeting human rime.
It watches the stars as they twinkle and gleam,
Yet, its own light, a feeble, flickering beam.
In the dance of the galaxies, it finds no peace,
For it seeks a sanctuary, a place to cease.
The soul has journeyed through realms of gold and dust,
Witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
It has felt the warmth of love's gentle caress,
Only to have it snatched away by the relentless quest.
In the marketplaces of life, it has bartered its tears,
For the treasures of the heart, the pearls beyond price.
But the treasures have turned to dust, the pearls to sand,
And the soul, it continues to wander, hand in hand.
Through the valley of shadows, it has braved the night,
In the hope of finding dawn's first light.
But the night is eternal, the dawn a distant mirage,
And the soul, it continues to wander, lost and sage.
It has sung the songs of the ages, in every tongue,
Its voice a whisper, a cry, a hum.
In the chorus of life, it has tried to find its place,
But its melody, it seems, is out of space.
The soul has wept for the world's forgotten dreams,
For the roses that wilt and the streams that gleam.
It has laughed with the children, danced with the stars,
Yet, its own dance, it performs with scars.
In the museums of memory, it has displayed its pain,
Among the artifacts of a life that's lain.
But the pain is its own, the memory its bane,
And the soul, it continues to wander, in vain.
It has climbed the peaks of the earth's highest mountains,
Seeking the summit of its own existence.
But the summit is a mirage, a trick of the light,
And the soul, it continues to wander, in the night.
The eternal sorrow of the wandering soul,
Is the echo of a question, a tale untold.
In the silence of the cosmos, it finds no respite,
For its journey, it seems, is without limit or bite.
So let the soul continue its endless quest,
Through the corridors of time, the labyrinth of the best.
For in its sorrow, there lies a lesson profound,
That in the wandering, we all are found.