Good Morning Soul

Good morning Soul
What a bright sunny day!

My Soul smiles at me
”I’m so glad you feel that way
as the day holds some
challenges
choices
I hope you are well prepared,
as I suggested?”

”Ah my Soul,
is not all life a preparation?
If it’s a challenge
I expect I can manage
I always get by somehow
If it’s a choice
I hope to make a wise one”

There is a doubt
at the back of my mind
about this
but I don’t express it

”What worries me”
said my Soul
”Is you don’t always
avoid the damage.
Ask your heart
how it feels
about this approach.
Are you sure
you are being honest
with regard to the toll
it all takes?”

If I can’t tell my soul
who will I tell?
So I admit
I tire of some struggles.
I ask for further advice.

My soul smiles again
with a tender expression.
”See it all as simple lessons.
One step at a time.
No pressure.
In the final days
it is I who will judge you
with compassion
and understanding.
I love you
above all things.”

I was so glad to hear this.
I may reach a place
where we both are at peace
without further need
of compassion.
All I must do
is save my own Soul
by loving it
more completely.

The Red Rose and the White

My lover gave me a rose
It meant a lot to me
She placed it amongst my poems
Where it could simply be

My lover gave me a rose
I gave her all I had, gladly.
Her rose was a heart-felt gift.
Now I mark its absence sadly.

My lover gave me a rose.
It bloomed so strong and red
When she left she took it
Stale perfume remains in my head

My lover gave me a rose.
Now, in my heart, it’s a knife
It’s blade is the red of blood
But it will not take my life

My lover gave me a rose
And a rose is a lovely flower
As a symbol of love its complete
The thorns also have power

If I am asked to choose a rose
I would choose the one that is white
The rose of gentle love and hope
The one you can see in the night

The white rose is given in friendship
With a true and faithful heart
It does not burn with passion
Or vanish when lovers depart

The white rose grows wild at the wayside
Untended, uncared for yet strong
Touched by pink at its tender centre
Couched on a breeze and a birdsong

I don’t need to bind it or cut it
I love the white rose
It shines with compassion
It’s the fairest flower that grows